Fade to Black
by iaso
Summary: Kasumi Kurosawa thought she had gotten lucky. She was reborn as the daughter of a farming couple, all the way on the outskirts of Fire Country and far from Konoha. She thought she had a peaceful, safe life ahead of her. She was wrong, of course, because things are never that easy - that didn't mean she had to be happy about it, though. SI/OC
1. Introduction: Part 1

.

* * *

 _Just because the screen has faded to black doesn't mean_

 _it can't light up again, with life began anew._

* * *

"Sir?"

The young man turned to look at the waitress, a cigarette hanging from his lips. "What?"

"Are you going to order anything?"

His eyes drifted to the watch on his wrist and he gave his arm a shake to clear the drops of rainwater off the face of it. The corner of his mouth pulled down in a frown at the number that stared back at him.

His clients were late— _four hours_ late.

"No," he drawled. The young man took a long drag of his cigarette, letting the smoke mingle with his lungs before releasing it in one prolonged gust. "I'm fine."

She held the same placid smile on her face, nodded, and bent down in a low bow. She displayed the same absurd level of politeness that everybody else in the ass end of Fire Country seemed to favour.

He wasn't a fan. The whole thing was borderline obnoxious, in his opinion.

The waitress bustled off back inside and the chatter of the patrons leaked out the door, mingling with the sound of rain dripping against dirt. As soon as she was gone he plucked the cigarette from his mouth and pressed it against the table. The residual bits of water drowned out the flickering butt.

He hadn't been bothered after waiting for that first hour, he had been mildly annoyed after waiting for a second, and had begun to feel concern blossom inside of him once a third had come and gone. With the fourth past him, though, the young man knew he had to do something other than sit and wait around, steadily getting soaked by the rain that dripped through the patch-work awning.

The young man stood and ran his fingers through his damp, shoulder-length black hair, which had slipped from its usual ponytail.

He didn't know much about his clients; all he had been told was that they were a family of three, whose name held no particular social standing, that wanted to relocate to Konoha.

Still, even that much information was enough to make the young man believe something was awry.

It was unusual for people other than nobles or merchants to commission an escort for such a trek, especially when their starting point was still within the bounds of Fire Country. Ninja escorts were only hired when there was a potential threat. For nobles, escorts were there to ward off assassinations. For merchants, petty thieves.

What could a _peasant family_ be running from?

He didn't know. He did, however, have a sinking suspicion that whatever it was had caught up to them—that became a problem as he needed them _alive_ to escort them _._ He supposed that he could technically escort their corpses, but he doubted the Hokage would count that as a completed mission.

With that grim thought lingering in his mind, the young man let out a sigh. "This was supposed to be an easy mission."


	2. Introduction: Part 2

.

* * *

 _It is the unknown we fear when we look_

 _upon death and darkness, nothing more._

* * *

 _Step, step._

 _One foot in front of another_.

Mud squelched underfoot, each stride I took leaving a chasm in my wake.

 _Left, right._

It was raining; a relentless downpour that tore up the Land of Fire's countryside each and every spring, with this season no different. There wasn't a moment of reprieve from it during, not a single day during the three days I walked through the sprawling forest around me, an echo so familiar that it turned to a background buzz in my ears.

The world was monotonous. The sound was the same, the landscape was the same, all painted in the dull gray tones of fresh grief that blurred every sense and nerve-ending in my body. The physical exhaustion did that too but in its own way. Two pains that combined to turn me into a walking zombie with only two thoughts in my head.

 _I have to find him._

 _Dad told me he'll be here, somewhere._

 _I have to find him._

I hadn't sat down in two days. My legs ached, sore from walking and cold from the constant layer of wet fabric that smacked against my skin each time I took a step. The gnawing in my stomach, born from two days of not eating as well, helped nothing. I couldn't stop, though. Not with the ever-present threat at my back. My father told me not to stop, no matter what because if I gave them an inch they'd take a mile and I wouldn't die, not now, not this soon—I wasn't going to stop.

It was the last thing he asked of me. The only thing he asked of me.

The forest became a blur in the corner of my eyes. Time dragged.

 _Step, step._

The goal my father set for me was all I had.

 _Forward._

 _Forward._

 _Forwa_ —

I hit something solid and rebounded.

A hand on my shoulder held me upright and anchored me in place, the sudden contact a shock to my system like glass dancing along the ends my nerves. Panic burst inside me. I tried to pull away, desperate, but the hand didn't even budge.

"Hey, hey," a male voice rumbled. Young. Gravelly, the way the young men from Kiso who smoked all sounded. The rasp gave an edge to his words that, and I found an odd sense of comfort in the familiarity. "Calm down—"

I screamed and writhed in his grip. "Let go! Let go, let go—"

"Stop." Both hands settled on my shoulders and my eyes snapped up to look at him.

The man stared at me with calculating onyx eyes and a ponytail of the same colour hung limply at his shoulders, drenched through. His lips were thinned, a grim line carved into stone features. He looked intimidating. A couple of scars marred his skin. There was something uncanny about his gaze, too sharp, too knowing.

My eyes moved up to his forehead and I caught sight of the headband across his forehead, a flash of silver with the leaf symbol carved into it.

"A ninja," I mumbled. "You…"

" _Just keep going, okay? Follow the path. It'll take you where you need to go. You need to find Tsurui. It's a village. It'll be the first one you find. Go to the restaurant—it's the only one in the village. Find the man with the metal headband. Tell him your name, he'll help you. He's a shinobi."_

 _I don't answer. Papa shakes my shoulders, hard._

" _Tell me you understand, Kasumi."_

" _I—I understand, papa."_

" _Good. That's my girl. Now, go!"_

The man's lips moved. I shook myself. "I—"

"What's your name?" he asked, his voice firm and direct, even. His hands didn't move but he wasn't looking at me anymore, scanning our surroundings instead. "Where're your parents?"

"I'm Kasumi… Kasumi Kurosawa…" I swallowed. Tears pricked at the corner of my eyes but I forced them away. "Mama and Papa are gone."

His grip twitched—it didn't tighten, but I felt the reaction through his hands, the desire to tighten held in check by the same control that kept his facial expression blank. "Gone?"

"Papa just—he said to run, find the village… I dunno where he went… and mama…" My words evaporated into a whimper.

 _A spurt of blood flashes in the corner of my eye and a scream pierces the air, high and feminine. The hand holding my own goes limp. Something warm splashes onto the sleeve of my shirt._

I couldn't choke out another word.

"Damn it," the man muttered. He bit out a sigh. Even without me finishing the sentence, it was obvious where it was going—I was in a four-year-old body that wore blood splattered clothes. "It's not safe here. Where…" He frowned.

I tried to keep my attention on him, to see what he would do, hear what he would say, but my eyelids began to droop. The exhaustion crept into my bones.

The adrenaline that splashed over me like cold water upon meeting this shinobi had worked its way down my body and leaked out of my feet, pooling beneath me and leaving my senses dulled once again. I was the closest to safe I'd been since papa left me alone.

My vision swam and I blinked to try and clear it. Once, twice—my knees buckled.

I felt myself get swept up into a set of arms.

Everything went black.


	3. Introduction: Part 3

.

* * *

 _It's only after we've lost everything that we're free to do anything._

* * *

The young man kept his chin pointed straight at the campfire while his eyes and shadow wandered, on alert for shapes amongst the darkness.

He suspected they were being followed.

There was no sign of it, not yet, but the young man would be surprised if nobody was on their trail—Kasumi was running from _something_. That fact raised questions, in and of itself. How did she make it so long without being caught? What kind of assassin couldn't keep up with a child?

That didn't even touch on the questions that bounced in his head around why there was an assassin after them in the first place. The mother was dead, he was confident of that. The father he was _pretty_ confident was dead too but had no proof other than that there was no sign of him thus far.

The most likely situation was that the father served as a distraction. Perhaps he sent Kasumi off while he led the assassin on an opposite course, which could explain why the assassin hadn't yet caught up to them. Though, that the distraction was not only necessary but had seemingly _worked_ , made the young man think the two were on equal footing combat wise. Either both were civilian or both were ninja.

All he could do was speculate.

The young man shook his head, pulled out a cigarette and lit it.

Smoking wasn't something he did during most missions. Nothing signalled your location to your enemy quite like a little tower of smoke dancing up through the air, the scent of burning tobacco.

That was exactly what he wanted. If this was a bandit, they deserved to be put down for harming citizens of the Land of Fire. If this was a ninja, then there was a whole _other_ slew of reasons for the young man to kill them.

It was his duty as a ninja of Konoha to draw them out and deal with them.

He set up camp in one of the more open areas he found. He placed Kasumi a bit away from him, let her seem vulnerable, easy. A fire going and a cigarette in his mouth, which served a dual purpose: point to their location and give the attacker a false sense of security because no ninja worth their salt would _dare_ try anything as brazen as this.

With all that in place, he also decided to take advantage of their position and had a stick covered in rabbit meat roasting in the corner of the fire. Kasumi didn't respond when he asked her if she wanted any. That was a theme, he found. He would ask her something. She'd meet him with silence. He didn't expect much else from her. There wasn't much he could do for her other than keeping her warm and get her somewhere safe.

Emotionally traumatized kids weren't his specialty. Emotionally traumatized _adults_ he could deal with because, for all intents and purposes, that was his job, but kids were a whole other story. When they got back to Konoha, she would be somebody else's problem.

Still, he felt for her. Violet eyes just a bit too wide to be natural, a blank face that could put any infiltration specialist to shame, long auburn hair that was nothing but knots, and clothes stained with what was _probably_ her mother's blood. She was a sad, pathetic little image.

The young man blew a cloud of smoke out of grit teeth.

There was nothing he could do for her except get her to Konoha. Past the gates of the village, whatever happened to her happened. He hoped the best for her. Really, he did. But he couldn't get caught up in those thoughts right then.

He had to keep watch. He needed to make sure that they even _got_ to Konoha in the first place.

.

.

I sat in a cocoon of blankets and stared at the figure across from me with blank eyes.

His eyes never stopped moving, though he hadn't changed positions in at least three hours. He sat with his right leg curled into his chest while his left leg stretched in front of him. One hand settled on his left hip. The other, in his lap, kept grasped around a kunai.

His name was Maen Nara and he was, in fact, the man who Mama and Papa hired to see us safely to Konoha.

When we didn't show to our agreed upon meeting time he took the only developed path out of the village, the obvious choice for our trip—the same path Papa sent me down. Our meeting was inevitable. Now, he was taking me back to Konoha. There was nowhere else for me to go.

I had no relatives. There were no close family friends I knew of. It had always been Mama, Papa, and I on our little farm, removed from the village proper unless we trekked half an hour through the marshes and fields; none of that was left for me to go back to.

I pinched my eyes shut. A breath shuddered from me. Tears were near but I held them off—later.

Our little campsite was still and silent.

A small fire flickered underneath a makeshift cover made of tarp scrap and sticks. There was nothing over my head but the sleeping bag that made up the outer layer of my cocoon. It seemed to be waterproof, since I felt no hint of dampness. Maen, however, was soaked; he had just the meagre canopy over his head as shelter.

I gritted my teeth. I didn't want to be there. I didn't want to go to Konoha, either.

I wanted to go home. Everything in me _cried_ to go home, back to the farmhouse, with the little hand-made rug right in front of the door and the ragged, dusty curtains that blocked out the rising sun and cracks of lightning during storms alike. With dishes older than Mama and Papa combined, cracked and chipped and stained.

 _With Mama and Papa._

There was nothing glamorous about the farmhouse, or the work that went along with it. Papa and Mama worked long hours to keep it running and they had begun to slowly introduce me to the various chores that I'd help with when I was old enough. Feeding the chickens. Brushing the horses. Picking out in the fields. I would have learned every aspect of running the place, eventually, because the farm would have been mine one day.

That would have been my life: settle down, have a family, work the farm. It was simple, wonderfully simple. I wasn't ambitious enough to desire anything else.

The fact that it hadn't been my first life was a truth that sat in the back of my mind; I had vague recollections of Buddhists preaching about reincarnation during my last life, so the leap of logic that they had been correct didn't give me much pause. I assumed that I had been reborn into rural Japan until this body was two-years-old—that belief had been shattered when a squad of Konoha ninja came through the village for the first time.

The memories of my old life were covered in one layer of fog from switching bodies and then another layer due to the rampant infantile amnesia which tore apart any tentative memories it could get its hands on. That hadn't stopped me from putting together the dots. Language barriers had been the biggest factor that prevented the truth from hitting me sooner; the visual proof was impossible for me to misconstrue.

While the reality of my situation had given me something of a shock, it hadn't done much to alter the path I thought my life would take. The news that we were moving to Konoha a couple of weeks back had done that.

At least at that point, I could take solace in the fact that I would have my family with me. I had Mama and Papa. I thought I would always have Mama and Papa.

A single sob tore out of me, against my will, and I hurried to bury the rest of them, should more try and follow.

Maen turned his eyes to me. He watched me for a second. His gaze moved up, to a point beyond my shoulder, and his eyes narrowed—then they widened.

There was a whistle in my ear; all I registered was a blink of silver that whizzed past my head. Something thunked to the ground behind me and the stench of blood, the sharp and metallic tang, unmistakable to me now, overtook the petrichor that hugged the air. A black shape slithered across the ground, back towards Maen.

I jumped, any sobs in my throat expanding into a garbled scream. I tried to scramble away but found that I couldn't, tangled in the blankets.

Maen was beside me in a blink. He grabbed a fistful of the fabric and hauled me over to the tree where he had been sitting. I went in between the trunk of the tree and his back, angled in such a way that his body created a barrier.

"Just the one," he muttered. He adjusted the kunai between the fingers of his free hand. "What on Earth…"

A couple of minutes passed before Maen moved away. There was a distinctly ruffled aura about him, from the more apparent stress lines in his still neutral expression and the added tension in his shoulders.

I turned to look at the body. My gut told me that it belonged to the person who killed both my parents—there was no way he'd be here if Papa was alive and kicking.

Maen flicked the top part of the sleeping bag over my eyes to block my view. "Don't," he said. "Just give me a couple of minutes to clean up, then we're going to get moving."

I didn't answer.

I wanted to look, to know the face that took away my family.

I let my body fall to the ground in a heap. The wall of fabric hid my face, masked the hot tears that burned down my cheeks and muffled the handful of whimpers that left my mouth.

I couldn't do it. I couldn't look.

All I could do was cry.

.

.

Maen walked over and crouched beside the body—he fought off a wince at the stiffness in his left hip at the movement.

He flipped the body, ignoring the stench of blood and feces that grew stronger at the movement. Maen's kunai jut out from the neck. A waterfall of crimson leaked out of the jugular vein and marred otherwise pristine pale skin. Maen wiped the dirt from it and saw that the face, as well, was unscarred, clean-shaven, blemish free. No headband adorned his forehead. No weapons on his person.

If Maen didn't know better, he'd have passed the man up as a civilian. Whatever cloaking jutsu the man used told Maen otherwise.

It was the first time he felt something like that during a shadow possession. He almost failed the jutsu at the initial point of contact because of it—he hadn't failed with the jutsu since he was a boy, if even then. He didn't like it.

He'd never encountered a cloaking genjutsu like that before, period. He _almost_ didn't encounter it this time around. If Kasumi hadn't made a noise he wouldn't have looked over and noticed the hint of a blur over her shoulder, like a painting that somebody smeared with their thumb. It could easily be missed by those not alert.

A mop of brown hair so dark it was near black sprouted out of the head. Maen moved up his eyelids and saw that he had eyes of a lighter brown, closer to the colour of chocolate. Neither features were special. On a whole, the body appeared plain. Not handsome or with an uncanny beauty to it. Nothing that would stand out in a crowd.

The longer Maen examined the man, the more he _didn't_ like what he was looking at.

Maen pushed his fingers through a couple of seals and carved out a chunk of ground in front of him that he kicked the body into. He covered it with dirt again. He didn't have any jutsu that could incinerate the body. And besides, it was possible for the village to recover the body at a later date and see if there's anything useful they can find from examining it further if he buried it rather than burned it.

He grabbed his rabbit from the corner of the flames. It was a bit burnt but better than nothing. He kicked some dirt on the fire and moved away the canopy to let the rain finish off the job. Maen got the rest of the camp cleaned up while the smouldering embers of the fire sputtered out, turned to nothing but a hissing pile of black sticks by the time the clearing was as good as never touched.

Kasumi was still crying by the time he picked up her bundle and broke out into a run; she went silent at the movement. A head poked out from behind the fabric, wet cheeks and red eyes. She gave the situation a quick look and retreated back into the blankets, curled in on herself.

Maen felt a twinge in his sore hip, protesting the pace, but he ignored it.

He just wanted to get back to Konoha.


	4. Introduction: Part 4

_._

* * *

 _The sun is always above the horizon_

 _if one knows where to look._

* * *

I lay my palm flat against the window and peered at the expansive metropolis that was Konoha.

The village was massive.

The population _had to be_ somewhere nearing half a million people. There were dozens upon dozens of districts and neighbourhoods, all of which were connected through a labyrinth of streets that bustled with life and activity, a flurry of people ready to greet you each time you turned the corner. There was some amount of culture shock, I supposed, that could have been inflating my perception, stemming from how different Konoha was from anything I had ever experienced, but I also knew that I was gazing upon the largest single collection of people on the continent.

There was a _reason_ so many people flocked from all corners of the world to visit the place, aside from the fact that, of all the ninja villages open to civilians, you were the least likely to get stabbed in Konoha.

I couldn't help but think that mama and papa would have liked it. Mama had always complained that Kiso was too plain and boring for her tastes—in good nature, I knew, but that didn't change the fact that I agreed with her. Though in my case, both of those things contributed to the innate serenity which I loved Kiso for.

A bitter taste tainted my mouth.

I let my hand fall down to my side, blinking, taking in one last look at the view before I wandered back down the hall.

.

.

"Lord Hokage," Maen said as he entered the office, giving the man behind the desk a low bow.

Hiruzen let out a sigh and shuffled around a few papers. "Maen—you're back early. I take it the mission did not go well?"

"The mission didn't actually occur as my clients were dead before I could get to them," Maen replied.

"Oh?"

"I believe they were killed by enemy ninja."

Hiruzen's expression hardened and his gaze dropped down to one of the papers on his desk. "I see. Would you happen to know anything about the intruder we have had on the perimeters of the village, then?"

Maen took the report offered to him. He scanned the sheet, his eyebrows receding into his hairline as he went. "Ah. There were two of them," he said. Hiruzen raised an eyebrow, expression not softening. "One of the perpetrators attacked while I was on my way back to the village. I killed him and buried the body if you want to send somebody to collect it at a later date."

Hiruzen nodded. "Be sure to include the rough location in your mission report, then." He reached over to the papers on his desk and tossed it in Maen's direction. "I received that report from Cat and Wolf about three minutes before you entered my office," Hiruzen said, motioning to it with his pipe. Maen took the hint and grabbed at it. He skimmed the pages, half listening and half reading. "It seems that their appearance scared the enemy ninja off, though they are uncertain whether or not the enemy remains in the forest. They claim he simply disappeared into thin air."

"It's the technique," Maen murmured, his eyes still on the page. "I thought it might be a genjutsu. I couldn't hear him or smell him, could barely see him or sense him—would have missed him entirely if I wasn't paying attention. I've never seen anything like it. I had a brief engagement with him before I… ah… became otherwise indisposed."

"Did your injury worsen?"

Maen scratched the back of his neck. "A little, but there was something else."

"Ah—so you are referring to the stray that you brought home, then?" Hiruzen asked.

Maen felt a rush of relief when he noted there was amusement in Hiruzen's eyes rather than annoyance. He didn't bother to question _how_ Hiruzen knew about the girl—he had the best connections within the ninja rumour network, as one would expect from their hokage. He claimed it was to keep tabs on his soldiers, but Maen thought it was because Hiruzen was a sucker for good gossip.

"Yeah."

"Who is she?"

"The daughter of the clients. She's… traumatized. She didn't have much information on what happened to her parents, and when I told her I was bringing her back to Konoha she didn't try and stop me—I'm not sure she has any other family out there. Even if she does, though, I thought it safer for both of us to figure it out inside of the village walls, rather than out in the field while there were still enemy ninja on her trail."

The older man gave a slight shake of his head. "As I see the line of thought, and there is no actual procedure regarding a situation like this, I don't feel I can fully fault you for your actions," he said. "However, I hope you are prepared to take responsibility for your choice on this mission."

Maen bit back a sigh, having mentally prepared himself for whatever punishment was about to be doled out. "I am."

"Good." Hiruzen waved a hand behind him, and an ANBU operative materialized just behind him. Maen gave a nod to the man who returned the gesture. "Would you get Shikaku Nara for me, please? There is something I must discuss with him, tell him it is urgent. He should be in his office."

"Right away, Lord Hokage," the man in the gecko mask said.

There was a puff of smoke and the ninja was gone.

"You think this is urgent?" Maen asked.

"No," Hiruzen said, "but I would rather not wait ten minutes for him to get here in his own time."

.

.

I looked up from my hands when I heard slow, shuffling footsteps.

There was a man coming down the hallway. Something about him looked familiar, but I couldn't place it.

His hair was jet-black, pulled up into a ponytail, the tips of it sticking straight up in a fan of spikes at the back of his head. His lackadaisical posture mirrored the way Maen carried himself—slouched forward with his hands buried in his pockets. The resemblance was clear, leaving no question in my mind that the two of them were related.

That conclusion didn't scratch the mental itch, though. There was more to it than that.

As he moved past he gave me a sideways glance, something of a smirk sending his lips twitching upwards. His mouth drooped back down when I gave no outward reaction to him except a stare.

He paused for a second as if to say something but thought better of it and kept going. When he reached it he didn't bother to lift his hands out of his pockets to open the office door, instead pushing it open with his shoulder and stepping inside.

It was just me and an empty hallway once again.

.

.

The door swung open, followed by the distinctive footsteps that Maen recognized as his cousin's.

"Lord Hokage." Out of the corner of his eye, Maen saw as Shikaku bowed to Hiruzen.

"Shikaku," Hiruzen greeted, steepling his fingers together on his desk in front of him.

"Is there something I can do for you?"

"Perhaps."

At the vague answer, Shikaku tilted his head. "Does it have anything to do with the little kid in the hallway?"

"Indeed it does."

Shikaku let out a sigh. "Maen, what did you do?"

"Both of her parents died," Maen answered. "I couldn't just leave her."

"Of course you could have, you just didn't want to."

"You would have done the same."

"Probably."

Hiruzen cleared his throat and both men turned back to look at him. "Regardless," he said, giving them both an unimpressed look, "something must be done with the girl."

"Is there any reason she can't go to the orphanage?" Shikaku asked.

"There are currently unknown ninja forces who may be waiting to make a move towards her," Hiruzen said. "It would endanger every other child at the orphanage if we put her there before the threat has been cleared."

Shikaku spared his cousin another glance, one which promised there would be a lengthy discussion between them in the near future. "Why not post an ANBU watch on her?" he asked. "I doubt one ninja can get past the village walls and a competent ANBU guard."

"I intend to," Hiruzen said, his lips quirking into a smile. "Though not quite in the way you are imagining, I think."

At that, Maen slotted together the pieces. "You want me to watch her?"

"You brought her back," Hiruzen pointed out. "I believe it is only fair that you are the one to ensure that she is safe while a proper housing situation is worked out for her."

"Lord Hokage, with all due respect… that's not a very good idea."

"Why?" Shikaku asked. "You do just fine with Shikamaru."

"Who will sleep for the entire day if nobody bothers him for anything. Anybody could do just fine with Shikamaru."

Shikaku let out a snort. "I wouldn't let Yoshino hear you say that."

"You are also the only person in the village with whom she is familiar with," Hiruzen added. "As you said, she is traumatized. Having a face that she knows will make the adjustment less of a blow to her mental state."

"I'm still not sure—"

"I think it'll be good for you," Shikaku murmured, cutting him off.

Maen stiffened, lips turning down. Shikaku answered the look with a raised eyebrow and a one-shouldered shrug.

"So you have no opposition to her being in the clan compound for the next two weeks, Shikaku?" Hiruzen asked

"I suppose not," Shikaku said. He scratched his chin. "I mean, even if one of them does manage to get into the village, they'll hop the wall—then they'd have to make it through the compound's forest alive. Even then, it seems highly unlikely they'll do much aside from getting rid of the kid and then getting out again."

"Good." Hiruzen grabbed a sheet of paper and scribbled something on it, setting it aside near the corner of his desk when he finished. "I doubt that they will be stupid enough to try and harm the girl, as she is technically under the protection of the village for as long as she is within our walls. It is impossible to completely rule out the possibility, though, so this will be a B-rank mission for you Maen."

By that point, Maen was resigned to the fact that this was an order, not a request.

He expected to be pulled from the roster for a week or given a couple more C-ranks as punishment, perhaps even given a strike on his record. The idea of getting babysitting duty hadn't even occurred to him.

He supposed being paid for it was something of a consolation, not that he needed the extra money.

Maen sighed but didn't bother to raise another argument, and instead answered, "Understood, Lord Hokage."

"Give it two weeks," Hiruzen said. "By then, appropriate living arrangements will have been made, and the enemy ninja would have long departed. However, should one of them make an attempt, I would like for the ninja to be left alive and in a state which is suited to interrogation."

"Understood, Lord Hokage."

Hiruzen gave Maen a faint smile. "I expect a full written report from you in a few days, despite the fact that the mission was not technically completed—ensure that your encounter with the enemy ninja is as detailed as possible," he said. He tipped his head, the fabric of the hokage hat pooling over his shoulders. "And check in at the hospital before returning home. You will have two weeks added to your recovery period to account for this mission, do make use of it to heal properly this time around."

"It's not much, but it's only for a couple of weeks."

My gaze drifted around the room.

It was minimalistic; the bed was tucked into the corner of the room with plain white sheets stretched across the mattress and a single pillow fluffed up against the headboard, a nightstand beside it. Behind all of them was a window that stretched out along the wall, a couple of potted plants littered around its sill. The rest of the room—which was the vast majority of it—was barren of any furniture or personal touches.

I nodded, not bothered. "Yeah. Thanks."

"I can take you into the village tomorrow and get you some actual clothes, but it's starting to get late, so you'll have to make do with a shirt of mine for tonight."

"Okay."

"Dinner will be ready in a couple of hours," Maen said, moving back towards the door. "Bathroom's down the hall. I'll be in the living room dealing with mission stuff."

"Okay."

His eyes lingered on me and he paused in the doorway.

I didn't spare him another glance.

I wanted him to leave. I _needed_ him to leave.

I shuffled over to the bed and sat down on it, turning my back to him to stare out the window instead. His gaze burned against the nape of my neck. I heard him mutter something indistinguishable and the door was opened, the soft click of the door falling shut behind him marking his departure.

Ears perked, I listened as his footsteps padded down the hall and away from the room. Once I was sure that he wasn't within earshot I collapsed in on myself, curling into a ball on top of the bedspread and letting the tears fall from my eyes. All of the stress, grief, and fear from the previous four days crashed down on me at once, tightening in my chest and clogging my throat, settling in my body with enough weight to smother me.

Sobs racked my body—vicious, angry sobs, that made my hands quiver and my breathing laboured. The tears seemed endless. Every time it felt like they were beginning to ebb away, images of mama and papa and Kiso would pop up in my mind and the anguish would wash back over me, pulling me in like a tide rolling out to sea.

These emotions had to be dealt with. The longer I let them fester, the larger the darkness would grow.

The situation I had been thrust into, the world I was being forced to inhabit, required me to have clear thoughts and that wasn't possible if I was consumed by my heartache. I lost my home, my family, and my future. They were gone and there was nothing I could do to get them back, there was no getting around that fact. The sooner I dealt with that reality the sooner I could work towards building something else for myself.

The universe knocked me down, but I would be damned if I let it keep me there.

.

.

Maen could hear her.

The walls of his apartment were thin, he always preferred it that way, but as a result, the sound of her crying seeped from his guest room and engulfed the otherwise silent living room.

His first instinct was to flip on the radio and drown it out. Some would call it apathetic to ignore her like that, but he thought pragmatic was a better word for it.

He felt for Kasumi, he did. He _wanted_ to help, but there wasn't anything he could do except give her a couple of awkward pats on the head and a few useless words of pity, nothing that he thought Kasumi would appreciate.

It wasn't as if he hadn't already helped her. He saved her life and brought her back to Konoha; she was crying in his guest room, wearing one of his shirts. Hell, he was going to take her _shopping_ tomorrow on his own dime.

With each minute that ticked by, though, the knot in his stomach grew tighter, coiling around his gut.

After half an hour Maen couldn't take it. He stood up and discarded the pages of his in-progress mission report, made his way into the kitchen, and flicked on the kettle.

.

.

The sound of somebody knocking at the bedroom door sent a jolt through my system.

I sat up, startled, and my hands clenched around the bed sheets. Any cries in my throat stayed there and died.

There was a sigh. A light clatter sounded in front of the door, followed by footsteps moving down the hallway.

As much as my body protested the movement, stiff from having spent so long in the same position, my curiosity got the better of me and I swung my legs over the side of the bed. I made my way to the door to pull it open and my eyes fell to the floor, where a steaming cup of tea sat abandoned.

I poked my head around the corner. I could see Maen sitting on his couch, cross-legged on the cushion with his eyes downcast.

The earthen scent of green tea, which carried a honeyed edge, wafted upwards.

The barest hints of a smile pulled at my lips. I bent down and picked up the cup, the warmth of the liquid seeping through the ceramic and sending tingles of comfort racing through me.

I looked down at the tea, over to the bed, and back down the hallway.

Maen's eyes shifted up to watch me as I entered the living room.

I settled down on his other couch, taking care to avoid stepping on any of the sheets of paper that were scattered around the floor. A single brow went up. I met his gaze for a moment, uncertain, and dropped it to stare at the green liquid.

"Thanks," I murmured.

He blinked. His chin dipped in a nod and he went back to his work.

.

.

He watched her out of the corner of his eye.

Her eyes were puffy, her cheeks were flushed a vibrant red, and when she had spoken her voice had been hoarse from crying, but some of the weight seemed to have lifted from her shoulders and her eyes had a spark of life in them.

The knot in his stomach eased, replaced by something lighter and comfortable.

He supposed there was a chance that he was more capable of helping Kasumi than he had thought.


	5. Introduction: Part 5

.

* * *

 _Home isn't where you're from, it's where you find light when all grows dark._

* * *

I first glimpsed the deer from the corner of my eye.

I shifted, angling my torso to get a better look at it as it took a couple of steps past the tree-line. The blanket draped over my shoulders cascaded to the ground at the movement.

It's head poked out from the forest, nose in the air to sniff whatever scent the wind carried its way. It hesitated for a second before it broke through the tree-line and stepped into the clearing.

Another one followed, then a third, a fourth, a fifth.

A soft breath slipped past my lips. I knew there were deer in the Nara forest, but in all the days I spent perched on that window sill in the bedroom, staring off into the expanse of the compound, this was my first time seeing them.

Their movements were tentative and their heads were all held high, as if they were watching out for something. Two of them appeared to be doe, with their smooth heads and wispy tails, while the other three were all fawn who tottered behind their mothers on unstable limbs.

I pushed the window open a bit further to get a better look. The evening air, chilled by a day filled with rain, swept across the room and sent goosebumps dancing up along the skin of my arms.

The sprawling forest behind the deer was lush, nourished by spring rains and weather. The day was drawing to a close and as the sun sunk below the horizon the sky became enveloped in a shroud of purple and orange. At the hooves of the deer were clumps of meadow flowers, spanning all the colours of the rainbow.

I shoved the window open the rest of the way. In a single movement, I tossed my legs over the edge of the window frame and hopped off onto the ground, a minor jump as Maen's apartment was situated on the ground floor of the building.

One of the doe lifted her head to stare at me as I inched my way across the grass.

My movements were slow, coming to a stop in between each step. I held my shoulders back and forced the muscles in them to relax. One of my hands was held out in front of me, outstretched, while the other hung limply at my side.

By the time I was halfway there, both of the doe watched me while the fawn continued to graze behind them. One of them took a couple of steps in my direction, bobbing her head up and down.

I stood still but left my hand extended in the air, my head tilted to the side.

I was certain that the gesture meant _something._ The action was deliberate—what it meant, though, I didn't have a damn clue. I hadn't even _seen_ a deer prior to that day, nevermind learnt anything about their body language.

After a second the deer raised her head again and held it there, swishing her tail back and forth; she plodded forward and one of the fawn followed. I got the distinct sense that somehow she was testing me and from the way she approached, letting her fawn trail her dutifully, I must have passed.

My lips pulled into a small, victorious smile, an unnamable warmth blossoming in my chest.

I took a few more steps. The wet grass tickled the soles of my bare feet.

The deer covered the rest of the distance and I stood there, still as a statue. The doe pressed her nose up against my hand and inspected it, her breath puffing out onto my palm. She nudged my hand and let out a snort. She moved closer, dipped her head down to my hip, and her snout brushed against my elbow as she nosed around in my pockets.

A startled laugh bubbled out of me and I placed a hand on her head, the fur short but smooth against my fingers.

After giving my pants a thorough search the doe pulled her head back to stare at me.

"She's looking for treats."

I jumped and spun to face the source of the noise, my heart jumping into my throat.

Shikaku gave me a smile and held out his hand to display a palmful of pellets. His posture was open and non-threatening, almost sheepish, something of a non-verbal apology for scaring me, but his eyes caught my attention—there was a calculating edge there that erased any chance he startled me on accident. His gaze wasn't cold or unkind; he seemed to be prodding me out of mere curiosity, like I was an interesting puzzle that he was trying to solve.

"Oh," I murmured.

"I always come out here 'round this time," Shikaku said. "They probably thought you were with me."

I turned to look at the doe who, along with her fawn, had moved a few feet away to watch the two of us. My reaction spooked her. I bit my lip. "Can I, uh… can I give some to them?"

"Hold out your hand," he said. I did as he requested and he tipped some of the pellets into my chubby fist. Shikaku jerked his head in the direction of the deer. "Go on. Just move slowly like you were, they'll come back to you."

I stooped down and held the treats out in their direction. The doe hesitated, bobbing her head at me again, but the fawn had no such reservations and skipped past its mother to nibble at the treats. Its lips brushed up against the skin of my hand—they were scratchy. A smile once again took over my face and an airy giggle escaped me.

It was a moment of comfort.

It was the first time since Mama and Papa died, since I had walked through the gates of Konoha, that I felt genuinely happy.

.

.

Maen let the minor cloaking genjutsu drop from around him and gave Shikaku a short nod as he approached.

"Have you considered having your old genin teammate give the kid a look?" Shikaku asked, not bothering with any preamble.

Maen's eyes moved to Kasumi. She ran her hand along the fawn's back, letting it take the treats from her palm. His mind flashed back to the genuine fear in her eyes when Shikaku snuck up on her, the way her meagre chakra signature had spiked in panic, and he let out a sigh.

"You think that's really necessary?" he countered.

Shikaku shrugged. "That's not a normal reaction to being startled and you know it. She's still having nightmares too, right?"

"Yeah," Maen said. He rubbed a hand over his face; the bags present under _his_ eyes could attest to that. "They've gotten better over the last couple of nights, but I doubt they're going to go away anytime soon. She's only been here a week; I'd have been more surprised if she wasn't still working through what happened."

"Having both your parents killed and then being shoved into an unfamiliar environment isn't the type of mental trauma a kid her age can work through on their own."

"I know."

Shikaku quirked an eyebrow. "So?"

With a sigh Maen crossed his arms over his chest, his lips twisting into a scowl. "I'm not sure there's any point," he said. "Even if Inohara _did_ agree to give the kid some therapy—and that's a big if, she's got a bunch of clients as is—there's no telling whether the kid would be able to keep it up after the mission ends."

"If you mention it, Lord Hokage might be able to work something out."

"Not if she goes to the orphanage," Maen countered.

"Well, you know how to fix that," Shikaku said. "Make sure she doesn't go to the orphanage."

"That's not up to me, you know that. The village's child services get to decide all of that."

"It doesn't have to be."

Maen turned his head in to look at his cousin, his eyes narrowing. "You can't seriously be saying what I think you're saying."

Shikaku's infuriating smirk didn't waver. "The kid doesn't mind you," he pointed out. "It's like Lord Hokage said, she's familiar with you."

"She hasn't exactly had much of a choice in the matter."

"You told me she's been improving already," Shikaku said, undeterred as if Maen hadn't even spoken. "You think she's going to keep that up in the orphanage, where she's just one kid out of a couple hundred?"

They both knew the answer to that.

"It doesn't matter. I can't take care of a _child_ , Shikaku."

"Not with that attitude you can't."

"I don't even like kids."

"Neither did I, but I still gave you a chance and I think you turned out pretty all right."

Maen shook his head, reaching into his back pocket to pull out a cigarette. He put the bud of it between his lips and snapped his fingers together, adding enough chakra to make a flickering flame spark to life. The end of the cigarette glowed a dull red, like old embers in a fire. He took a drag of it and blew it out again while Shikaku watched him.

"That was different," Maen finally said.

"Was it?"

"I was ten years old and already on my way to being a genin. She's four. If I take her on, I won't just be keeping an eye on her to make sure she doesn't do anything stupid, I'll be raising her."

"Trust me—as a man with a four-year-old son, I can say with certainty that the two things aren't all that different."

Maen scoffed. "I'm barely ever home and I don't know the first thing about raising a kid."

"Yoshino can help with both of those."

Maen let his head fall back against the tree. A low chuckle left his lips. "Good to know Yoshino's in on this."

" _She_ thinks it's a good idea."

"It's not," Maen countered. A wisp of smoke curled from his mouth at the words and fanned through the air between them. Shikaku swatted it away. "I'm not sure why you two even started on it in the first place."

"Because it's a good idea," Shikaku answered. He punctuated his words with a flick to the side of Maen's head. "I wouldn't suggest it if I didn't think you were capable of doing it."

"Thinking you're right doesn't make you right."

"My track record would beg to differ."

Maen shoved his hands in his pockets, choosing to not deign that statement with a response.

He wasn't lying—he didn't like kids.

They were loud and gross, always yelling about something and always running around with sticky fingers. They whined, they cried, they destroyed everything in their path. They took more attention than Maen was capable of expending.

Kasumi wasn't like that, though, and Maen supposed that was why he didn't dislike her—not that he'd ever admit it out loud.

"I'm not the only one involved in this," Maen said. "The kid might not want to stick around."

As if on cue, Kasumi turned to look in their direction. Her eyes focused on Maen and her lips tipped up into a lopsided smile, gave him a little wave.

He thought she had a cute smile.

"I don't think that'll be an issue," Shikaku answered.

"Cocky son of a bitch," Maen muttered.

"I'm not being cocky if I'm actually right." Shikaku turned on his heel and gave a short wave over his shoulder, heading in the direction of his home. "Yoshino said to drop by around noon tomorrow so the kids can have a playdate."

"Do I get a choice?"

"Nope."

Maen pulled the cigarette from his mouth and blew out a gust of smoke, his shoulders sagging into a slouch.

He didn't think his reservations were unfounded.

He was barely able to take care of himself on most days and he didn't think throwing a little kid into the mix would help that any. It wasn't fair to the girl if he took her in without actually being able to care for her. She needed stability in her life, something he wasn't sure he could provide her with. Though, when he thought of it, he could recognize that the orphanage, the place she was most likely to end up, wouldn't give her that either.

He dropped the cigarette onto the grass and stamped it out.

Kasumi settled down on the ground, her legs crossed under her, and observed the deer as they interacted with each other. He was tempted to drag her back inside so he could finish the work he was doing but found that he didn't have it in him.

It was the first time he saw her happy. He couldn't pull her from this.

That it was a valid excuse to put off finishing his work helped, too.

* * *

Maen prodded me between the shoulder blades, a gentle push towards the house. I turned my head to look at him and frowned, but that reaction seemed to amuse him as the tips of his lips twisted into a smirk that I swore was passed genetically through the Nara.

I tugged off my shoes and tossed them onto the mat that sat on the porch.

Maen reached over my head to pull the slider open. The sounds of food sizzling in a pan drifted out of the house, bringing with it the smell of fried rice and fish.

"Yoshino," Maen called.

"Oh!" a voice cried from in the house. "Come in, come in. I'll go grab you some slippers from the front door!"

Maen stepped past the threshold and I followed him.

I was nervous.

While the lack of scarring on Shikaku's face had been enough to throw me off of recognizing him at first glance, the second I heard his name his identity had clicked in my mind. It was the first time I had begun to get an inclination as to when I had been born in regards to the timeline—given that I was about to have a 'playdate' with Shikamaru, it was safe to say that I was at least near, if not the same age as him.

Some may have been excited to know that they'd get to experience the story first hand, but I was too busy shitting my pants for that.

Being the same age as Shikamaru meant being the same age as Naruto, and _that_ meant there was a war in my future. Had I been able to live my life out in Kiso, I would have never been touched by the war—living in Konoha entailed the exact opposite. When everything went to hell I was going to be right in the eye of the storm.

While I had never considered training to become a ninja, as the whole business of killing for a living sounded rather distasteful, the thought of being defenceless in the face of danger wasn't particularly appealing either. A loss of my morals was a small price to pay to avoid the loss of my life.

It wasn't a decision I was agonizing over, though. There wasn't much point in doing so until I had a better idea of where I was going to end up. For all I knew, I could be shoved in with a family of civilians who were staunchly anti-ninja and have that door slammed in my face.

A woman with a mane of chocolate brown hair bustled down the hall, half of it gathered into a bun at the back of her head while the rest of it flew out behind her. There was a stained apron pulled over her torso and the hints of a bright pink sundress peeked out from behind it. She looked every bit the beautiful, delicate, well-bred woman that most traditional men sought as a wife.

She set a pair of light pink slippers down in front of me and smacked Maen upside the head with the other, shattering that image with ease.

To his credit, Maen took it without so much as flinching.

"Why is this the first time I'm meeting her?" Yoshino demanded. "She's been staying with you for an entire _week_ and you've been hoarding her in your house?"

"Mah, Yoshino, come on."

"That's not an answer."

"It's complicated," he said. "I'm sure Shikaku's told you the short of it, at least."

She rolled her eyes. Her gaze hit me and everything in her demeanour softened once again, shifting from hell-bent demon to nurturing mother in a heartbeat. "Oh, dear, it's lovely to meet you."

"Hello," I murmured.

Maen nudged my foot with his. "Introduce yourself."

"I'm Kasumi."

Yoshino, for her part, looked thrilled. "Hi there Kasumi," she said and gave me a warm smile. "I'm Yoshino. I'll show you where Shikamaru is, and you two can play while I prepare some snacks. Maen, go in the kitchen and make sure the food isn't burning."

"Yes, ma'am."

"That's a good boy."

Maen snorted at the comment but did as he was asked.

Yoshino led me through to the living room where a nappy little thing was sleeping on the couch, curled in on himself and snoring, who I knew had to be Shikamaru. The woman took half of a second to coo before she tipped the couch forward and dumped the boy off of it.

Shikamaru landed on the laminate floors with a thud so loud that it made me wince. He gave a light snore and turned over onto his side, unfazed, much to Yoshino's dismay.

"Shikamaru Nara!" she snapped.

 _That_ woke him up.

He jolted, bolted up and gave the woman a deer-in-the-headlights look. "What?"

"I _told you_ we were having guests over, why were you sleeping?"

"'Cause I'm tired."

At least the kid was honest—from the look on his mother's face, though, that wasn't going to earn him too many points in her books. I expected her to yell at him, but she rolled her eyes skyward and said, "You can sleep later. Come over here and introduce yourself!"

The boy meandered over and gave a languid wave. "I'm Shikamaru."

"I'm Kasumi."

Yoshino clapped her hands together. "Good! I'm going to go finish the snacks—you two have fun!"

"Yeah, yeah," Shikamaru answered. A jaw-cracking yawn followed the words.

I could see the reprimand on the tip of her tongue. I grabbed Shikamaru by the wrist and dragged him over to the shogi board, nipping that in the bud. He didn't bother resisting.

Yoshino muttered something to herself but took her leave after that. I waited until her footsteps had dropped off before turning back to him, taking in his glazed eyes and drool-stained shirt.

"You can go back to sleep if you want," I said.

He blinked. "You don't care?"

"Not really," I answered.

If the kid was as tired as he looked, the last thing I wanted to do was deal with him; I had learnt from experience that even the nicest kids could turn into complete monsters when starved of sleep.

"Can we go up to my room? Sleeping on my bed is way more comfortable than sleeping on the couch."

"Sure."

.

.

"She seems nice," Yoshino said as she breezed into the kitchen.

Maen shrugged, stirring the rice with a wooden spoon, the heat of the pan licking the skin of his fingers. "She's a good kid."

"Any reason she's so hesitant to speak around adults?" she asked. She took the spoon from him and scooped out a chunk of rice to hold under her nose for inspection. Without turning to look she made a flapping motion with her hand to shoo him away.

Maen settled down at the kitchen table. "No clue," he answered. "I've just kind of assumed it's a coping mechanism for her."

Yoshino hummed. "Odd. I barely got a peep out of her, but as soon as I left the room she was talking to Shikamaru no problem."

"Is that so?" Maen asked, eyebrow raised. "I only started getting more than basic 'yes' and 'no' answers from her a couple of days ago."

With a flick of the wrist, Yoshino turned off the burner and moved the pan over onto the other side of the stove. She reached up and grabbed a lid, placing it over the rice, steam rising up and clouding the glass in an instant. "Well, she is from rural Fire Country," she said. "It might just be how she was raised to behave, all formal around adults—those people can be as strict as the Hyuuga when it comes to manners."

"Maybe, but she's not really all that polite—she's just quiet."

"She seemed pretty polite."

"Didn't Shikaku tell you that she stared him down the first time she saw him?"

"Really?" she asked. When Maen nodded, she let out a chuckle. "Man, I would have loved to see that."

"It's hard to pin down her personality or mannerisms right now," he said. "I'd say she needs another few weeks before she'll be back in a state of mind where those come out."

Yoshino grinned. "You'll only know for sure if you're there when it happens."

Maen could kick himself for giving her an opening this early into the conversation. He gave her a flat look. "I don't need this from you, too."

She reached over and smacked him upside the head with the handle of her spoon before he could dodge. "Don't get prickly with me."

Maen scowled and rubbed the back of his head. "I wasn't," he mumbled. Somehow, retiring from active duty and having a baby served to _sharpen_ Yoshino's reflexes rather than dampen them.

She rolled her eyes. "Give me one good reason you can't take her."

"I'm never home and I don't know how to raise a kid," he said, the same answer he gave Shikaku. "There. I gave you two."

"And I'm offering to help with both of those," she said. "I can watch her when you're on missions or if she gets on your nerves—because she _will_ , I don't care how quiet she is now—and I can give you advice for anything you're unsure about. You won't be raising her completely on your own."

"I don't want the kid, Yoshino."

"Liar."

"I don't like kids. I've never liked kids—Shikamaru is an exception."

"Liking her isn't the point. It's that you empathize with her. You look in that kid's eye and you see _yourself._ " She jabbed a finger at him. Her lips twisted into a very Nara-like smirk. "That's the point."

Maen heaved a sigh. She wasn't _wrong_ , and that was the worst part.

He remembered the grief-numbed senses, the helplessness of having your entire world taken from you and flipped around. The last one was to a lesser extent since he was taken from his home but not his entire village the way Kasumi was, but he could still relate to her.

"Does your husband ever win when you guys fight?"

"That question implies that my husband ever bothers trying to fight with me, which he doesn't."

"Right. Of course."

Yoshino turned back to the counter, pressing the fried rice and fish into little balls then wrapping them in a layer of seaweed. She split them among three plates as she finished them, bringing one over and placing it in front of him, the other staying in her hand as she walked to the kitchen entrance. She paused in the doorway. When she turned back to face him, her lips were pursed.

"Shikaku took a chance on you when you needed it most," she said. "He didn't think he could do it either. Just… imagine what would have happened to you if he had let his doubts get in the way."

With that, she turned and left him to his thoughts.

* * *

Each day when he woke, Maen sensed a little signature in his guest room, felt the sun against his closed eyelids, heard the ambient sounds of the forest through his cracked window, and felt the rough fabric of his bed sheets against his bare arms—in that order. This morning was no different.

His chakra sense wasn't strong, not like a natural-born sensor, but what he picked up throughout his career was enough that he can easily feel any other signatures within his house. He still wasn't used to there being other signatures and it stood out like a sore thumb.

Maen gave himself a couple of minutes in bed to enjoy the morning before he dragged himself up to start the day. A quick shower, a fresh set of clothes, and a few stretches for his hip that the medics suggested—a strong suggestion that involved sharp objects and a potential month of bed rest if he didn't comply—later, Maen headed off towards the kitchen.

He reminded himself to let his footsteps echo on the way there. Each thudded step marked his trek down the hall, a beat that grew louder for a few seconds while he walked past the guest room and dropped in volume again for the rest of the way. When he started breakfast, he continued the song, let the pots clang on the counters and the spoon hit the side of the bowl.

Maen didn't realize how much of a silent presence he was in his own home until this week. It was funny the first time he scared Kasumi out of her mind when she came into the kitchen in the middle of the night looking for a glass of water and found him, in the dark, making himself a cup of tea. She screamed, he jumped, and when she was out of earshot he got a chuckle out of it. But the idea of scaring a traumatized child shitless lost its humour quick.

Aside from making noise, Maen worked on autopilot.

He cooked the rice, fried the eggs, and grabbed a couple of cups from the cabinet for tea. He found that tea was a safe thing to give Kasumi. Food could be hit or miss. She never told him _why_ she didn't want it, but the displeased stare and shove across the table she gave the plate spoke for itself. Tea, though—she always drank the tea, even after he started adding the supplements.

It was a trick he learned years ago. The original intent was to get nutrition in a sick teammate if their stomach stopped taking solid food, but it worked just as well in this context. Green tea with honey in it, and a piece of a ration bar crushed up into dust. When ground fine enough the bar would dissolve into the tea and the honey masked the taste.

He wondered what kind of lecture Yoshino would hit him with if she found out. He imagined something along the lines of: "Those aren't meant for kids!" or "You should just try harder to get food into her!"

A bit of chakra in the back of his sense pulled Maen out of his thoughts. Without turning over his shoulder, he said, "Ten more minutes."

He expected her to head back to the guest room while he finished making breakfast, as she always did. Instead, after a minute hovering outside of the kitchen, he felt Kasumi move into the room and take a seat at the table. It was unusual for her. Most of the time, it seemed she went out of her way to avoid being near him.

Maen watched her fidget through his peripheral. She was visibly nervous, like she wasn't sure what she was doing there, either.

He made the tea early and set it in front of her rather than make her sit at an empty table while he finished up.

She gave him a fleeting look, a second of eye contact, before her gaze dropped back down to her hands. "Thanks," she mumbled.

"Sure, kid."

He finished cooking and divvied up the food. He set their plates down on the table, the pristine white dishes a stark contrast to the muddied cream of the table, tainted from the layer of dust that covered the table top for years.

Kasumi picked at her plate. Her attention seemed to be more focused on him than her food. Each time he looked away from her, in turn, her gaze locked on him. He let her think he didn't notice. The staring continued even after she pushed her plate away and emptied her tea, her unnerving violet eyes following every micro-movement he made. She was studying him.

Finished with his food and assuming Kasumi was finished with hers, Maen picked up their dishes. When he went for her teacup, she pulled it to her. He raised an eyebrow.

Her face screwed up in a look of discomfort. One hand, gripped to her pant leg beneath the table, tightened into a fist. "I wanted, uh… I wanted more tea."

 _Huh. So that's what it was._

He shrugged. "Sure."

Kasumi blinked. The tension wound through her released in one breath.

It was a small thing, but it was the first time she'd outright asked him for anything.

Maen set all of the dishes in the sink. He cleaned them while the kettle boiled, yet another thing he'd started to do since there was a second person in his house. Making breakfast, not ghosting around the house, doing his dishes instead of letting them sit in the sink. The stuff most people do that Maen dropped somewhere along the way without even realizing.

He set the hot cup of tea in front of Kasumi and received another quiet word of thanks.

He'd never tell his cousin, but Maen was starting to wonder if Shikaku was right about what he said, when Maen first returned with Kasumi. Maybe having somebody else in the house was good for him.

* * *

Kasumi started coming out of her room more after that.

If he was reading in the living room, she'd come out and sit on the couch opposite of him. She stayed at the table once their meals were done. She even trailed after him when he went grocery shopping, pointing at some of the things she'd actually be willing to eat.

She was adjusting. The meaningful progress was happening, slowly but surely, and right near the time she was set to head off to a permanent living arrangement. He hoped she'd continue to bounce back once she was out of his care, but a niggling voice in the back of his head, one that sounded suspiciously like Shikaku, kept telling him that she wouldn't.

* * *

Maen stared at the door of the Hokage's office. He stood in front of it, arms stiff at his side, and contemplated slamming his head against the door and putting himself out of his misery. He raised his fist and knocked instead.

He didn't know why he was here. This was a bad idea. All of it.

"Come in."

He let out a breath and pulled it open, striding forward to stand in front of the desk, bowing to Hiruzen. "Lord Hokage."

"Maen," Hiruzen greeted, his usual grandfatherly smile on his face. "I was not expecting to see you before your debriefing tomorrow."

"Yeah, about that, sir," Maen started. He rubbed the back of his neck, forcing the tension out of his shoulders.

"There have been no problems, I hope?"

"No, sir."

"Good. What is it, then?"

Maen took a deep breath. "I would like to take her on as my ward—Kasumi, I mean."

Hiruzen chuckled, placing his pipe in the corner of his mouth. "Ah, I see. That shouldn't be a problem. I will have word sent to the Children's Welfare Council and the orphanage; it may take a few days for them to approve the request, but it will be done."

That wasn't the response he had been expecting. He hadn't thought Hiruzen would outright deny the request, but Maen also hadn't expected him to grant it without a second thought.

"You… don't seem surprised," Maen noted.

"No, I am not," Hiruzen said. "Shikaku came to speak with me regarding this matter a little over a week ago. He wished to ensure that it would be a possibility before he made mention of it to you."

"Of _course_ he did," Maen muttered.

"He thought that the arrangement would be beneficial to you," Hiruzen said, his voice betraying his amusement. "I must say that I do agree with him."

"You both say that like I wasn't doing well already."

Hiruzen gave him a contemplative look, his eyes roving over Maen's face and then down to his still injured hip. Maen fought to not fidget under the scrutiny.

"I will give you another week off of the active roster so that you and the girl may have a chance to settle in," Hiruzen said. "Have you talked to her about it?"

Maen chose not to dwell on the conversation shift. He wasn't sure he could blame Hiruzen or Shikaku for doubting him anymore—the words felt more like a force of habit for Maen, built in from years of refusing to assess his own lifestyle, or lack thereof.

"Not yet," he answered. "I didn't want to until I knew for certain."

"Understandable. Go, discuss this with her—I doubt she will have complaints." Hiruzen shuffled some papers around on his desk, scanning each of them until he found what he was searching for. "Take a look at this before you go, though. I was going to have these sent to you this evening but as you are here, I see no reason to not give them to you now."

Maen took it and read it over—it was a report from the ANBU patrols in Konoha's forest. "No activity, then?"

"None after the first day," Hiruzen said. "It appears whoever followed her did not wish to challenge Konoha for her."

Maen wasn't surprised. To pass the borders of Fire Country illegally was one thing, but to break into one of the five great hidden villages? There were few things in the world worth going to that much trouble for and a single child, no matter what her parents might have done or who they might have been, was not one of them.

"Has there been any information on who they are?"

"Sadly, no. All that can be concluded so far is that it is unlikely they are affiliated with any village."

Maen nodded. "We'd know about them if they were village affiliated."

Konoha's information networks were too effective to miss something like that. Given more than one ninja had used that the same technique, that odd form of cloaking, it wasn't a stretch to assume it was a clan technique, much like his own shadow abilities—in that case, there was even less of a chance that it would have been missed.

Missing one person developing a jutsu like that was a possibility, but missing an entire clan was not.

"Indeed."

"They must be mercenaries, though, to be supporting themselves if they aren't with a village," he murmured, thinking aloud.

"You haven't considered that they are gaining money by civilian means?"

"No, they wouldn't need to. They've got a technique that seems like it's practically designed for assignations and heists, and both of those are too profitable to pass up."

"Fair enough," Hiruzen said. He took back the sheet that Maen handed to him. "There will be a minor investigation on the matter, as some of the ninja in the Intelligence Division showed an interest in pursuing it further. I'm certain that any insight you can offer to them would be highly appreciated."

"I'll see what I can do," he said.

"Thank you." Hiruzen placed the sheet among a stack of others, then shifted his chair back and rifled through one of the drawers of his desk. He resurfaced with a neatly stapled package of papers that he held out to Maen. "These are the forms you'll need to fill out to make your guardianship over the girl legal."

Maen took them, gave them a half glance. "Thank you, Lord Hokage."

Hiruzen nodded. "If I do not see you again this evening, I will assume that all has gone well and move forward with informing the orphanage of the change in plans. Once you have the forms filled out, it would be best if you return them to the Council directly."

"Understood, sir."

Hiruzen gave Maen another one of his smiles. "Best of luck, Maen."

.

.

A knock on the door caught my attention. I dragged my eyes away from the clouds that were rolling through the sky and settled them on the door.

"Hey, kid," Maen said, opening the door and walking in. "I wanna talk to you about something."

"'Kay."

He had a small frown on his face, his shoulders tense and his hands shoved deep in his pockets. There was a nervous energy jittering around him—well, that made two of us.

It was my last day with Maen; my first two weeks in Konoha had come and gone in the blink of an eye. It felt like an eternity had passed since I walked through those gates, but at the same time, it was also as if the days had been condensed into a split second. It was an odd contradiction, one that I couldn't quite wrap my head around.

Regardless, I knew that when I went to sleep the following evening, I would be doing so under a different roof, in a different part of town, with unfamiliar faces watching over me.

I wasn't thrilled.

I hadn't expected to come to like Maen, but it had still happened.

He was an awkward duck emotionally, without a doubt, but he was kind in his own way and he had made an effort to help me through the last couple of weeks.

He didn't force me into any conversations.

He didn't complain that I was keeping him up at night with my nightmares, because I _knew_ I was, as the bags under his eyes were a clear indication that his sleep schedule had been interrupted. If the walls were thin enough to pass on my cries during the day, then they were capable of doing so at night.

He didn't comment when I sat on the window ledge for hours on end, opting to leave meals outside the door and let me eat them in my own time, in peace.

He let me be. I was certain that it was due, at least in part, to his lack of ability to interact with me rather than any type of respect for my privacy, but I was grateful for the space nonetheless.

I turned so that one of my legs was dangling off of the sill, my upper body facing him to watch as he shuffled into the room and settled down on the comforter of the bed. I pulled the blanket tighter against my shoulders.

His frown deepened. "Do you like it here?"

The question surprised me. I blinked, trying to discern where the conversation was going, and felt my gaze drift back to the window. "Yeah," I murmured, taking in the view of the compound. "I do."

"Would you want to stay here?"

My head snapped back to stare at him. "I… can I?"

He snorted, his frown easing into something closer to a smile. "I wouldn't ask you to stay here if you couldn't actually do it."

"Would I be like… living with you?"

"You'd be my ward," he said. "It means that I'm in charge of watching you and taking care of you, but you're not legally my child. You'd still be Kasumi Kurosawa, not Kasumi Nara."

I blurted out, "Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why let me stay with you?"

I wanted to agree—how could I not?

Even ignoring the fact that I had grown to like Maen, that I had grown to like the compound, that I had grown to like the some of the other people who lived in it, I would have stayed with him purely for the sake of avoiding the orphanage. Nobody had outright told me that that was where I was headed the next day, but the conclusion wasn't a hard one to reach. Where else would they put me?

My reasons for wanting to stay with him were clear, but I couldn't say the same about _his_ reasons for wanting _me_ to stay.

He was a young, active duty ninja, who had far better things to do with his day than babysitting a kid—granted, I wasn't a child mentally and wouldn't require that much care, but he didn't know that.

What could drive him to take on that level of responsibility? Was he being paid to do it, like with the mission? Was somebody forcing him to do it?

I didn't know, but I wouldn't— _couldn't_ —agree to the arrangement until I found out.

He leant to the side, resting his shoulder on the wall, and pulled one of his legs up under himself. His eyes gained a faraway look, as if he was off somewhere else, sometime else, staring at a point past my shoulder instead of at me.

"A long time ago, I was just like you." A heavy sigh left his lips. "My older brother died when I was four, my parents when I was ten. All of it was just… gone. Like that. One letter was all it took."

He fell silent.

"What happened?" I asked, the question coming out in a soft, lilting breath, barely above a whisper.

"Somebody helped me, somebody…" he trailed off. His lips twitched up into a smile. "Somebody decided to take a chance on me. They _gave me_ a chance." His gaze shifted, his eyes clicking back into focus as if he'd snapped back into the present. "I think it's only fair that I do the same for you. You're a good kid and you deserve some stability. I'm not looking to replace your parents or anything like that, but I'm willing to offer you a place that you can call home—if you want it."

There was an almost painful sincerity to his words.

The mattress dipped beneath my weight as I dropped down from the ledge and crawled over to where Maen was sitting. He stared at me, alarmed. My arms wrapped around him and I buried my face in his chest, ignoring the way that he stiffened at the contact.

"Thank you," I murmured, the word muffled by the fabric of his shirt.

After a second one arm wrapped around me, as hesitant and tense as the rest of him, but I wasn't bothered. That could change in time—that _would_ change in time.

He couldn't replace my parents, nobody could do that; mama and papa would always be the people who gave me my start in this life. I was confident, though, that one day, however far in the future it may have been, however much work it may require, that I would come to consider Maen to be my family in his own right.

.

.

Maen stared down at the small child who was attached to him, her arms holding his chest in a vice-grip.

He still wasn't certain whether he could do it. All of his reservations were still in place, his reasons for doubting himself were still valid. This wouldn't be a walk in the park for either of them.

His free hand reached up and settled atop the kid's head, his other already pressed up against her back. An irrational fear that he might break her if he held her too tight flashed through his mind. She was damn tiny—he had known that already, as he had spent three days carrying her back to Konoha and had barely noticed her weight the entire trip, but it was hitting him all over again.

This was a child.

However unusually mature and intelligent she may have been, despite the fact that she'd witnessed things no child should ever have to witness, _she was still a child_ , and she was now his responsibility. He realized at that moment that it didn't matter whether or not he thought he was capable of taking care of her—he was going to give it a shot anyways and if he was going to go down, he was going to go down trying.

Shikaku had done it for him all those years ago. Now, it was his turn.


	6. Introduction: Part 6

.

* * *

 _Of all the things you choose in life, you don't get to choose what_

 _your nightmares are. You don't pick them; they pick you._

* * *

"I can't."

"I figured."

Inohara frowned, her fingers tracing the rim of her teacup. "I would if I could, you know that," she murmured. "I just—I don't have any time right now. I've got two more weeks left in my off-duty period and they're both booked rock-solid."

"And as soon as you're back on the active roster, they're sending you out?" Maen guessed.

She nodded. "They always do, you know, so I don't see why this time now would be any different. The border posts are always short on medics," she said. "They need me more than the clinic needs me."

Maen leant back into the couch cushion, disappointed but unsurprised—that was the outcome he expected. Field trained medics were always in demand, that much hadn't changed, even with the war long since ended. When he thought of it, the fact that Inohara had even been home when he dropped by was something of a miracle.

He'd just have to figure something else out.

"I get it," he answered. "Don't worry about it."

Her brows furrowed together and her lips twisted down, making it clear to Maen that she was already doing the exact opposite. "You're sure she won't talk to anybody else?"

"I'm not even sure she would have talked to _you_."

"That bad, huh?"

"She's getting better," Maen answered. Those three words described Kasumi in a nutshell. Steady improvement was happening. But he wanted to wasn't going to half-ass this—if there was something he could do to help, he was going to do it. "She's mostly fine with me, Shikaku, Yoshino, and Shikamaru now, but anybody else is lucky to get more than a few words out of her."

"So she doesn't like strangers," Inohara said.

"Pretty much."

Inohara thought on that for a moment. "Honestly? I don't know what you can do."

"That makes two of us," he grumbled.

It was, again, the answer he had been dreading to hear, but the one he had expected to receive.

"The best advice I can give you is to just wait and see. Take things one step at a time," she advised.

When Maen's expression shifted, she gave a shake of her head. "I know you're worried—that's fine—but for all you know she could completely forget all of this in a couple of years," she said. "Pushing now could only cause further emotional damage, especially if she's going to be as unreceptive to a foreign presence as I think she is. She's still young. Just give her some time."

"Time," he echoed.

"Time. That's all you can do. Professional help is good, but sometimes, it's better to just let things naturally take their course. I'll keep in touch and offer you advice. See how she's doing in a few months. Half a year, even. But for right now, I think having you around is all the help she's going to need."

* * *

"Nap or snack?"

I cracked an eye open and tilted my chin to the side of Maen's shoulder to meet his gaze.

Four-year-old bodies required significant amounts of sleep, as it turned out, and were tired by even the simplest of tasks—in this case, shopping. Groceries were the main goal of the outing, but we had made pitstops to get me more clothes, as only a minimal amount was purchased a month prior, and to get Maen more 'ninja stuff', whatever that entailed. We were gone for a few short hours, but it was enough to make my eyelids heavy.

That being said, nine times out of ten, when given the choice to sleep or eat, the latter won out on the instinctual food chain.

"Snack," I mumbled.

He adjusted my position on his back and shifted the bags hanging off his arm. "Pick someplace."

I blinked both my eyes open. A yawn fought to rip clear of me but I suppressed it with my hand and let my gaze trace over the various stalls, taking in all of the options.

Truth be told, I didn't know what half—if even that—the stalls were selling. Food in Konoha differed greatly from the cuisine offered in Kiso. Food in Kiso relied more on fish due to how close in proximity the village was to the ocean, as well as both the Land of Rivers and the Land of Waves. Konoha, however, leant far more towards rice and red meat dishes, coated with a generous layer of spicy sauces.

As we passed a stall that was selling things that looked and smelt fish-related I pointed a finger at that, and Maen wound his way through the throng of people towards it.

A man stood behind the counter, preparing a wide variety of fish products, some raw and some grilled on skewers, some spiced and some served on top of rice. A few of them held a vague level of familiarity; the majority of what Kiso served were bastardizations of River and Wave dishes, and everything that the man was selling appeared to be attempting to do the same, though of a lesser quality.

The man looked up as we approached. "Well, hello there!" he greeted, a wide grin on his face. It took on a forced air to it when his eyes hit Maen's headband. "What can I get for you two?"

If Maen noticed the shift, he didn't react to it. "You can get whatever you want," he said to me. "Just try not to spoil your dinner."

"There's so many to pick from."

I could make a guess at what most of it was, but through the sauces and the spices and the various other garnishes, it was hard to be certain.

The man perked up at my voice. "Why, is that a Wave accent I hear?"

I fought off a flinch. The muscles in Maen's shoulders tightened a fraction beneath my chin.

Many of Kiso's residents were immigrants from Wave, with a few stragglers making their way in from River, and over time, the majority of the people living in the village developed something of a rough twang to their voice that resembled a Wave Country accent. I hadn't noticed it was there until I had already been in Konoha for a few weeks.

"Why do you care?" Maen asked him.

The grin on the man's face faltered, taken aback by the blunt words. He yanked it back into place in record time and let out an uneasy chuckle, though neither gesture was the least bit convincing.

"Ah—my apologies," the man said. "It was just a question from a nosy old man, no harm meant by it."

Maen let out a light scoff and proceeded to ignore the man. He leaned his head back to look at me. "See anything you want?"

I pointed a finger at what looked like a skewer of deep-fried prawns, covered a glistening red sauce and vaguely familiar. I thought I might like it, but I didn't care much anymore; I didn't want to linger any longer.

There was an exchange of money and the stick was placed in my pudgy fist.

Maen made his way back through the crowd of people, heading in the direction of the Nara compound.

"Thanks."

"Thank me by not getting any of that on my shirt," Maen answered. "You're gonna be the one to wash it if you do."

"Meanie," I huffed. "Might do it now, just 'cause."

"Have fun trying to get it out—you can't even reach the sink."

I poked my knee into his ribs. He snorted, pressing a finger into the back of my knee in return. A squeak escaped me and I jolted, jamming my other knee inwards as well. Not that I felt bad about doing so.

"So mean."

"Whatever."

I took a nibble of the prawns. I expected something spicy, from the look of the sauce, but that wasn't the kind of flavour that danced along my taste buds. "Oh. It's sweet."

"Don't like it?"

"Nah, I do. It's kinda like something mama used to make."

"Yeah?"

I hummed. "She didn't use sweet prawns, though, and the sauce was a bit sour."

He didn't respond.

A few days later, though, when dinnertime rolled around, something akin to what I had described was waiting for me on the table. He had gotten close, but a few of the little details had been off—regardless, I hadn't been able to wipe the smile off of my face for the rest of that night.

* * *

I shot upright in my bed.

The remnants of a scream still echoed in my ears. Blood-curdling, high pitched, so sudden, we were walking along the path together, the three of us, it wasn't a happy occasion but everything was _fine_ before that—I raised a hand to my mouth and dug my fingers into the covers around me.

Tears pricked in my eyes. Every nerve in my body was alight. My limbs were stiff.

 _Breathe._

I forced out a single, harsh breath.

The whole room was shrouded in darkness, barely broken by the light of the moon through the window. It created a spotted pattern of white that stained the floor of the room as it was filtered through the top part of the forest's canopy.

 _Focus on the light._

 _It's fine. You're fine._

For a few moments, I sat there and stared straight down at the floor while I waited for my heart rate to drop. Once I thought they would hold my weight, I threw my legs over the side of the bed, tossed aside the covers, and padded across the room to slide into my slippers. The plush fabric was a welcome alternative to the chilled hardwood.

I pulled down on the doorknob for my room and stepped out into the hallway, taking care to close the door without making any noise.

The nightmare were getting better. They'd decreased in frequency in the month and a half since coming to Konoha, from a nightly occurrence to once or twice a week. They hadn't decreased in severity, though; each nightmare was enough to send my heart into a fluttering panic and keep me from sleeping for the rest of the night. Some nights I would sit up and doodle on my sketch pads in the moonlight. On others, I would stare at the wall until the sun came up, counting the minutes as they dragged by.

I tended to avoid venturing out of my room in an effort to limit the chance that I'd wake Maen—that didn't seem to help much, him being a ninja and all, but it minimized the guilt I felt over keeping him up. That night, though, my throat was dry, and I was hoping that a cup of tea might have been enough to lull me back to sleep.

I flicked on half of the kitchen lights and the bulb buzzed as electricity surged through it.

The electric kettle was sitting on the far counter—the counter that I wasn't tall enough to reach yet. Most of the time it would sit on the lower shelves after Maen was done with it, which I could get to without issue. On the odd occasion that he forgot to put it away after using it, however, it would remain up where it was, right in front of the outlet and out of my grasp.

A form drifted past me on its way into the kitchen. I jumped, rearing back a step.

Maen walked over to the counter and pointed at the kettle, a non-verbal question, his hair down around his shoulders and his eyes glazed with sleep. He wasn't even awake enough to remember to make noise as he entered the kitchen.

A flush worked its way up my neck, both from having woken him up and that I was so easily startled by him. I nodded in response and shuffled over to the table.

He filled up the kettle in the sink with enough water for a single cup. He turned the tap off, paused, and turned it back on again. A second cup's worth of water dribbled in. While he did that, it dawned on me: even if I had managed to get the kettle down, I wouldn't have been able to fill it up because I couldn't reach the sink.

Let it never be said that sleep aided in the concocting of plans.

Maen placed the kettle on the stand and set it to boil.

I stared up at the ceiling; the sound of wood scraping against tile alerted me that he sat down in the chair opposite of mine.

"M'sorry," I mumbled, hating how small my voice sounded.

"For what?"

I let my chin fall back down.

The look on his face as he watched me was unnerving. It managed to be a little of everything and nothing at the same time, annoyed without being annoyed, unhappy without being unhappy. He was impossible to read. There were a few expressions I'd figured out, easy ones with clear tells, but most of the time, Maen was a mystery unless he allowed his expression to open up.

"Sorry for waking you up," I said.

"What, did you do it on purpose?"

"I'm… well… no?"

"Then why are you apologizing?"

I rolled my eyes and let out a puff of air—it was something between a sigh, a huff, and a snort, a gesture that expressed a general sense of exasperation.

The sound of water bubbling signalled that the kettle was finished. Maen stood and rummaged for a minute, and returned with two cups of tea. One was chamomile and the other lavender, both with a drop of honey. The chamomile went in front of me, the lavender for Maen.

He sat back down in his seat and placed a scroll, produced out of thin air, beside his cup. I didn't question where it came from—he never did anything but laugh when I tried.

Maen read his scroll and drank his tea in silence. His eyes flit back up to me every few minutes, but the bulk of his attention was on the scroll.

I saw no reason to break the quiet. I held my cup in my hands and stared off out the kitchen window. There was nothing for me to see out there. The window faced away from the moon, and all it showed at this hour was a blank sheet of black, the window placed too low for the stars to shine through it.

I wasn't sure how long passed by the time that both of our cups were empty. It was long enough that my gaze went unfocused and I was lost in my thoughts, my mind adrift. A tap on my head reigned me in from my reverie.

Maen stood beside my chair with his hand rested on the back of it, staring down at me. "You ready?"

"Yeah," I said. "Yeah, I think so."

"Come on, then."

He moved out of the kitchen and I followed down the hall, all the way to my room.

I stood in front of the door and tried to will my uncooperative hand to reach up, to grasp the doorknob, to turn it, to open the door, but it was to no avail. It felt like somebody was holding my arms in place.

"Kid?"

"Can… can I come and sleep with you?"

The words slipped out before I could stop them and the second they left my mouth, I wanted to take them back. The request sounded stupid and childish and _needy_ when voiced aloud.

"Yeah, sure. Go grab your own pillow, though, 'cause I'm not sharing mine."

I turned to look at him, surprised, but he was already back in his room.

When I raised my hand this time it didn't resist. I ran in, grabbed my pillow, and rushed over to Maen's room.

.

.

She was out like a light as soon as her head hit the pillow.

She had her knees pulled up and inwards, curled in on herself, what he knew to be a protective gesture. One of her arms held tight against her stomach while the other reached out to take a fistful of his shirt.

When he agreed to this, he thought she would be sleeping on her own side of the bed. Yet, when she crawled under the covers and positioned herself right up against him, he saw no other appropriate response except to let her do it.

He found he didn't mind.

Maen couldn't recall the last time he shared a bed with somebody. The sensation of having the warm lump of another person in such close proximity while he slept was foreign to him, but not uncomfortable. What mattered to him was that she fell asleep again. A far as he was aware, that hadn't happened the other times she woke with nightmares. If a bit of company was what she needed to keep the nightmares at bay, he supposed that he could get used to it.

He pulled the covers up so that they sat on her shoulders and his midriff. One of his arms went behind his head while the other was draped over her, rested against her back. He felt Kasumi shift closer to him in her sleep.

He laughed, soft and short.

When he left the village two months prior expecting a quick and easy C-rank escort mission, he never could have imagined that it would change his life in the way that it did. He had left an eternal bachelor and returned with a real thing, a living creature, who he was now responsible for. She relied on him. She needed him to be present and functioning every day of the week. His life wasn't just his own any longer.

It was surreal when he thought of it like that.

He stared down at the little head peeking above the blankets and watched the soft rise and fall of her chest.

Maen knew without question that, unexpected or not, drastic or not, the changes to his future were for the better.

* * *

"Lord Hokage."

"Ah, Maen. Thank you for coming so quickly."

"Of course." Maen glanced around the room—he was the last one to arrive. He raised a hand in greeting, a two-fingered wave. "Hey."

Aside from Hiruzen, there were two other ninja standing in the office that were decked out in chunin vests and a third with a jonin vest. Maen recognized all of them but couldn't summon up names to match to their faces. The chunin were young, late teens at the most. The jonin—or, more likely, special jonin—was a bit closer to Maen's age, maybe in his early twenties.

"As I am sure you have guessed, I have a mission for you four," Hiruzen said, the pipe in the corner of his mouth letting out a puff of smoke. His gaze turned to Maen. "Maen, you'll be leading the team."

A scroll was tossed Maen's way and he reached up to snatch it out of the air. His eyes scanned over the words, making note of the important details.

 _B-rank._

 _Item retrieval._ _Requirement of infiltration and potential seduction._

 _Located in the southern part of the Land of Tea._

He bit back a sigh.

He had been back on the active roster for a month. During that time, he'd been fed a multitude of light duty work, courier missions through Fire Country and outpost check-ups, along with the odd bounty run with his ANBU squad. None of that took more than a day to complete, nothing that would keep him away for any extended period of time; he suspected there had been a bit of meddling on both Shikaku and Hiruzen's part to keep him close to the village while the kid was still settling.

There was a limit to how long they could keep him around for. Maen was an infiltration specialist. The majority of the work he did was long and drawn out, a significant portion of his missions long-term. He couldn't avoid them forever.

Maen turned to look out the window.

It was still early in the morning. He would have rather waited until the next day to leave but with how long of a trip it was to southern Land of Tea, a four-day trip if they used proper pacing and minimal rest breaks, they couldn't afford to waste the day of sunlight.

More to himself than anybody else, Maen murmured, "This'll probably take a couple of weeks, give or take a few days."

"You think it'll be that long?" the special jonin asked. "It's only four days to get to the mission location, then another four days on the way back. I hardly think we'll need six days to get in there and grab the artifact."

"If you wanna just barge in and jack the thing, obviously it could be done in a day," Maen answered. "That's not an option, though. The scroll specifies that we need to be discreet. We'll need time to gather information on the court population, get a proper layout of the manor, and then scout out the ninja guards who're probably hiding in among the civilians. Doing this right will take time."

"Indeed," Hiruzen said. "Though, I believe this conversation would be better suited in another room."

Maen nodded. They would have a lot to talk about. Missions like these were better discussed and planned prior to leaving the village when their minds weren't clouded by the stress of being in the field. When the need arose, adjustments could and would be made.

"Are there any debriefing rooms open right now?" Maen asked.

"There should be a couple down the hall—rooms D5 and D6, I believe."

"Alright." He turned to the rest of the ninja gathered. "Come on. We'll do a quick briefing right now. When we're done, we can break for a couple of hours to give you time to pack."

.

.

I laid on the grass, my limbs spread akimbo, and basked in the warmth of the of the day.

I wanted to enjoy the weather while it was still bearable—summer was just around the corner and once the season turned, the feeling of the sun beating down on me would go from pleasant to stifling.

"What's this?"

My head rolled against the ground, turning to the side to look at Shikamaru. He had my sketch pad in his hand and was pointing at one of the pictures.

"Flowers."

"Really?"

"Yep."

"Doesn't look like it."

"That's cause it's an abstract drawing."

Doe eyes blinked in confusion. "Huh?"

"Nothing."

He shrugged and went back to flipping through the pages as if our exchange had never happened.

Kids were easy in that respect; most of them had the attention span of a goldfish. I could say whatever I wanted and with a word or two, the topic would change and it would be as if I hadn't ever said anything. They didn't dwell on those things.

Adults weren't the same. Adults could think of things, could scrutinize what I was doing with a critical lens. It was intimidating, to say the least, especially in an environment like Konoha where there was an abundance of overly analytical, trigger-happy killers wandering around that wouldn't hesitate to take out anybody they pegged as a spy—or, at least, ship them off to Torture and Interrogation.

I didn't know which option sounded worse.

Something warm and heavy landed atop my stomach. I lifted my head and a fluffy black ponytail occupied my line of sight. Shikamaru apparently decided that I was suitable as a pillow.

"I don't think you're supposed to do that without asking first," I pointed out.

"Would you have said no?"

I opened my mouth and then shut it again—damn it.

He rolled over so that he was looking at me, that stupid Nara smirk on his face.

"Don't you have anything better to do?" I asked him.

"If I go back, I gotta do chores." He shuddered. "Mom wants me to clean my room."

"Well, is it messy?"

"Probably."

"Probably?"

"It looks okay to me, but mom says it's a dis—disa…"

"Disaster?"

"Yeah, that."

I let out a sigh. "Fine, whatever—just shut up and go to sleep, I wanna take a nap too."

"Actually, Shikamaru, you can't go to sleep yet," a new voice said. "I need you to go talk to your mom for me."

I looked over and saw Maen stroll across the grassy clearing, his hands shoved in his pockets and a frown on his face.

Shikamaru didn't move. "Don't wanna."

"Tough. Tell her that Kasumi needs to stay with you guys for a couple of weeks." Maen displaced Shikamaru from on top of me with his foot. With a nudge, Shikamaru was sent tumbling away, whining. Maen said, "Go on, brat."

Shikamaru grumbled about it but complied with the request. He picked himself up off of the ground and slouched away in the direction of his house.

Something cold and uncertain settled in my gut. "A couple of weeks?" I asked.

I knew that there would come a point when Maen had to take a longer mission. It was inevitable. Still, the idea of having him gone for that long, that he could leave for that long and not come back, made my heart clench.

"Yeah, most likely," he said. "C'mon—we need to go pack your stuff."

I reached up to pull his hand free from his pocket as soon as I was close enough. My fingers wrapped around his calloused palm, too small to make it all the way around. He let me do it, and his own fingers curled up to give mine a brief squeeze.

* * *

I awoke in a cold sweat, surrounded by an unfamiliar room.

I could all but smell the blood, hear the screams, feel the rain pounding against my skin.

 _I'm not there._

 _I'm okay. It's okay._

 _I'm safe._

For a brief second, I didn't know where I was. A harsh bolt of panic struck me. And then it clicked and I tried to make myself relax, but it was difficult.

There was no window in the room for me to gaze out at and no light dancing upon the floor for me to focus on. A pad of paper sat in my bag on the other side of the room but at that moment, I didn't want to draw, not with the afterimage flashing over my mind's eye.

What I wanted in that moment was human contact. Something real, solid, warm.

I wanted Maen.

He wasn't there, though.

Instead, I found myself slipping through the door of the room beside me, pillow in hand.

Shikamaru didn't even open his eyes as I lifted his covers and settled beside him in his bed. He muttered something, the words jumbled by sleep, but he didn't hesitate to slide over some and turn to face me. A single hand reached out and pulled at my shirt—I wasn't sure if he even realized it was me, or if he was just grabbing at the new heat source on instinct. I didn't care, either.

In seconds Shikamaru drifted back to sleep as if nothing ever happened.

It took me a few minutes of deep, calming breaths, but eventually, I followed him into a peaceful slumber.

.

.

Yoshino was surprised when she opened the door to the guest room that morning and found the bed to be vacant. She was told that Kasumi was a late sleeper, that she should expect to drag Kasumi kicking and screaming if she tried to get her out of bed before ten in the morning.

Aside from that, Yoshino hadn't heard anybody moving around the house yet. It was just her and the children, as Shikaku had gotten called out on a mission at the start of the week.

On instinct, she went into Shikamaru's room. That was where she found the two of them.

They were tangled up together with the covers hanging off the bed, exposing their legs to the morning air. Kasumi was snuggled up into Shikamaru's stomach and his limbs were haphazardly tossed over her. Yoshino didn't think it was a comfortable position for Kasumi, with one of her son's arms over her face and his knee on top of her ribs, but the sight was downright precious regardless.

She almost felt bad about disturbing it.

 _Almost_.

She yanked off what parts of the covers still covered the children and cried, "Rise and shine!"

It was a shame that she didn't have her video camera out to get the reaction—she was certain Maen would have enjoyed seeing it.


	7. Introduction: Part 7

.

* * *

 _The sharp thorn often produces delicate roses._

* * *

Something warm impacted with Shikaku's back.

There he was, minding his own business, trying to take a nap on the mats in his own damn living room, when a small child—whom he was certain wasn't his own—ripped him from his slumber.

How troublesome.

He grunted and cracked an eye open to watch the little girl clamber up and over his back. She landed with a thump in front of his stomach, her face flushed and her breathing laboured.

"Aren't you supposed to be getting ready?" he asked.

Her hair was half-done, with a chunk of her long auburn locks pulled up into a bun, while the rest hung down her back in knots. She hadn't gotten dressed yet, either; she was still wearing the set of panda pyjamas that she had entered the house in rather than the traditional kimono that she had brought with her.

The girl shook her head. "Yeah," she breathed, "but Yoshino's scary."

Shikaku barked out a laugh—he wouldn't deny that. "Would you rather Maen do your hair and help you get in your kimono?"

He watched as her eyes widened and her lips parted. "That… that's worse."

"I mean, I could try."

"No."

"Your loss—I'm good with hair."

"I don't believe you."

"I am," he drawled, his lips pulling up into a smirk. "I've had long hair all my life, and I do Shikamaru's hair."

"Your hair's not that great, though."

He flicked her on the forehead. She squawked, reeling back.

"Don't be rude."

"I'm not," she grumbled.

"That was rude."

"Why? I was being honest."

Shikaku stretched out on the floor like a cat, a sleepy smirk on his face. He drawled, "Honesty is rude."

Her face set itself into a pout, her arms crossed over her chest with a huff, and she turned away from him.

Shikaku found it interesting how much one kid could change in a matter of months with enough time and effort. When he saw Kasumi like this, full of life and attitude, he could hardly reconcile her with the sullen child Maen first dragged through the village gates. He never doubted that she would improve—if he had, he wouldn't have pushed Maen to take her in. Setting his cousin up with a lost cause would've been cruel. This much improvement this fast, though, went beyond his expectations, and it was one of the few times Shikaku was glad to be surprised.

Kasumi opened her mouth, ready to rebut his words, when footsteps thundered down the hall. Shikaku's entire body went cold—Kasumi wasn't the only person who hadn't gotten dressed yet.

Yoshino had asked him an hour ago to get dressed. He said he would. He lied. He knew his wife would be too occupied to nag him, so he took the opportunity to catch a bit more sleep before the festivities for the evening kicked off. They'd be up for most of the night, after all, and he wanted to be well rested. Nothing wrong with that.

He cursed his sleep-addled mind. He should have known better than to stick around after realizing the kid had escaped his wife—she led Yoshino right to him. Now, instead of only Kasumi dying a premature death at the hands of his wife, they were both going to be crushed like gnats.

He went to get up but a hand grabbed at his shirt.

Kasumi had a fistful of the fabric in her hands, but she wasn't looking at him. Her eyes were locked on the hallway from which her impending doom would emerge.

"If I go down," she whispered, "you're going down with me."

Before he could slip from her grasp Yoshino rounded the corner, wearing an expression that promised eternal damnation to those who had wronged her. Her eyes first went to the girl, then flicked up to what the girl was holding onto—him.

The destructive aura swirling around Yoshino increased tenfold.

He let out a resigned sigh, his posture drooping into an exaggerated slouch.

Damn it.

.

.

Shikamaru pulled on the sleeve of her kimono, lifted it up to eye level and stared at it. "That looks troublesome."

It was bright pink and flowery and long, the sleeves draping down so low that they almost dragged along the ground when her hands were at her sides. She didn't look particularly thrilled to be wearing it, in Shikamaru's opinion. She kept yanking at it and tugging at it, shifting her weight from one foot to the other.

He had never seen her in a kimono before. He didn't think it suited her.

Kasumi snorted. "It is."

"Don't say that!" Ino snapped. "Your kimono is pretty!"

Ino, on the other hand, looked plenty comfortable in her lavender and white kimono.

"It's itchy," Kasumi muttered, fidgeting in place and grimacing. "It's really tight, too."

Kasumi pulled at the fabric and tried to loosen the obi, but Ino smacked her hand away. "You're gonna wreck it."

"Are you cold?" Choji asked, his eyebrows furrowing.

She shrugged. "Kinda," she admitted. "But it's got layers. So it's not too bad."

Shikamaru could see her shivering despite her words. It was the end of December, the middle of winter—it was cold outside. _He_ was cold, and he was pretty confident his kimono was made of a thicker material than hers.

As if his thoughts were in the same vein, Choji ambled forward and wrapped his arms around Kasumi. He squeezed her to his chest like she was a teddy bear. In response, Kasumi wheezed out a breath and patted Choji's arm, nearly swallowed up by Choji.

"Not so tight—you're gonna break her!" Ino cried.

"Yeah," Kasumi choked out, wiggling in his grip, "a little."

Choji let out a sheepish laugh and lightened his grip. "Better?"

Kasumi grinned. "Better." She turned her eyes to Shikamaru and jerked her head in his direction. "C'mere."

She stared at him, her eyes wide and her head tilted, the same look the fawn always gave Shikamaru when he had food with him. He saw no reason to try and argue with her—he never won. His life was easier when he just did what she wanted.

He walked over and hugged her free side, opposite of Choji.

Kasumi hummed, leaning her head against his shoulder. "So warm."

Ino huffed. "You guys are weird. I'm gonna go bug daddy."

"Awh, Ino," Kasumi said, her voice coated with false sweetness. "Come on—don't you wanna hug?"

"Nu-uh. I don't wanna get my hair or kimono messed up."

"Your loss."

Ino walked off in search of their parents, and the three of them stayed like that, cuddled up in the middle of the street as people walked past them.

Shikamaru went to break away from the group when Kasumi's hand latched onto the back of his kimono and held him in place. He let out a sigh of resignation and his shoulders slumped into a slouch. He was stuck there until she was ready to let go.

Troublesome.

.

.

"Bite."

Shikamaru stuck his dango stick out to his left, in the general direction of her face. He saw her shift in his peripheral as she ducked down to take a bite of the sweet-tasting snack.

"Bite," he said.

Kasumi held out her mochi as she chewed and Shikamaru pulled off a chunk of it and popped the cake into his mouth.

The festival was in full swing around them; the night was still in its infancy. Most people were returning to the streets from their trip to the shrine, the bells having rung and their udon having been consumed, the first day of the New Year upon them. Games were being played, drinks were being drunk, and laughter was being had.

Shikamaru was ready to go home, though—he was tired.

He and Kasumi snuck away when the adults began talking.

Shikamaru didn't know who any of those people were, Ino's family aside, but both his parents and his uncle had been familiar with them; his father had introduced them as 'work friends'. Or, he thought that was what his father had said. Shikamaru hadn't paid much attention as he was too busy fantasizing about being curled up under his covers at home.

"If we're quick, we can probably sleep for a couple of minutes before they come wake us up."

"Mom said she'd ground me if she caught me sleeping."

"What she doesn't know won't hurt her."

He threw a frown at her. "You don't have to do the dishes for a week if you get caught sleeping—Maen won't be mad if you nap."

She shrugged. "Then I'll sleep and you can watch me do it."

She took another bite of her mochi, passed the rest of it to him, and placed herself up against his side. It felt like mere seconds passed when she started snoring.

Shikamaru groaned. How troublesome.

His eyes shifted back to where the adults were and honed in on Ino, who clung to her father like he might disappear if she let go, and then he looked back to Kasumi.

He supposed she wasn't _that_ troublesome.

.

.

Shikaku watched the interaction with a small, amused grin.

Maen and Kasumi sat on one of the benches a ways off. She was settled on his lap, her back leant into his chest and her head tipped into the crook of his neck. His chin skimmed the top of her head. His arms were behind him, palms pressed into the grass to brace their combined weight.

Above them, the fireworks were in full effect. That was the reason their little group gathered in one of Konoha's largest civilian parks, taking a short break from the rest of the New Years festivities.

Kasumi's attention was glued to the sky above her. Shikaku knew it was her first time seeing fireworks, having overheard their conversation. Her violet eyes were stretched wide as she gazed up in wonderment, enraptured by the litany of colours sparking to life against the obsidian backdrop.

Maen wasn't watching the show. His eyes were cast down to stare at the tiny thing in his lap. His expression was tender, with the lines around his eyes soft and his lips pulled up into a smile.

Had somebody told Shikaku a year ago that this was what would become of his cousin, he'd have called them a dirty liar. A doting familial figure to a four-year-old girl who had him wrapped around her pinky finger? No, he would have asked them what genjutsu they were under, and then subsequently told them to fuck off.

He would admit, however, with no small amount of smugness, that he had been right all those months ago when he guessed that the kid would be good for Maen. Orchestrating their coming together had been a pain, as had been the subsequent efforts to keep Maen around the village whenever possible, but Shikaku knew it was worth it.

His baby cousin deserved the dose of happiness, as did the child in his lap.

They were _damn_ good for each other.

He heard a stifled laugh off to his right. He turned to see that Yoshino had caught sight of the two as well and had lifted a hand to cover her mouth, the tips of her lips peeking out from behind it to reveal her smile. Shikamaru had fallen asleep in much the same position Kasumi was in, cradled in Yoshino's arms with his face buried in her neck.

"I told you we should have brought the camera," she murmured.

"Yeah," Shikaku drawled. "Next year."

She nodded, turning her gaze back to Shikamaru and running a hand through his hair.

Shikaku pushed his shoulder against hers and wrapped an arm around her waist. Together, their group watched the rest of the fireworks, a happy ending to a happy evening.


	8. Academy: Part 1

.

* * *

 _Obstacles don't have to stop you. If you run into a_

 _wall, don't turn around and give up. Figure out how to climb_

 _it, go through it, or work around it._

* * *

"I wanna be a ninja."

Maen hesitated, a brief wave of stiffness passing through the muscles in his back. When he turned away from the stove to face me his expression was pulled into an impassive mask.

"Alright," he said, a measured word, slow to pass his lips. "Any reason in particular?"

 _Plenty_.

"I… wanna be able to protect people."

My own person was ranked chief among the general allotment of 'people', but I didn't feel the need to mention that. It wasn't that protecting my friends and family and village _wasn't_ appealing, especially with Konoha inching its way towards feeling more like a home rather than just the place I happened to be living, but the origin of the urge was selfish in nature.

Summer was nearing. My fifth birthday had passed in a blur, as had the one-year anniversary of my coming to Konoha, and I didn't care to remember either of them, despite their significance.

But a year was a lot of time to think. The notion of becoming a ninja seated itself in me early on, once I recognized just how much danger was in my immediate future, and it hadn't faded as time wore on.

I wanted to protect myself; I didn't want to have to be reliant on those around me to do it.

Not that I doubted they could. Maen was a jonin, having been promoted in the recent months. If danger ever showed itself, I had no doubt that Shikaku would jump to my defence, as well, and he was _more_ than capable of handling himself in a fight. By the time everything _really_ went to hell-in-a-handbasket, Shikamaru would have come into his own, bringing the tally up to three powerful Nara who would come to my aid in a time of need. That wasn't counting any other friends I may make along the way.

While the sentiment was comforting, the idea of sitting back and crossing my fingers and trusting the people around me to do the brunt of the work didn't feel right.

I was well aware that there was nothing romantic about being a ninja, despite the bullshit that was shovelled into the open mouths of children and civilians. The morality of it was dodgy at best. Murdering, stealing, spying—wrapped up in pretty patriotic sentiments, of course, but the truth of it was undeniable.

Yet, when one looked at it out of the lens of the world, these things grew increasingly less immoral. This was a cruel word; dog-eat-dog was an apt description of the mentality held by most. If you didn't murder your adversaries, they'd kill you first. If you didn't steal from your enemies, they'd rob you first. If you didn't spy on those around you, they'd gather information on you first. You were either proactive or dead, there were no two ways about it.

The thoughts left a sour taste in my mouth, but I knew that meant they were along the right track.

I doubted I would ever take glee in killing or in inflicting pain on another. So long as I lived long enough to feel the aftermath of those acts, though, I knew that I could do it and overcome whatever challenges committing them brought me.

I would do it.

Maen watched me, breakfast sizzling on the stove behind him. "You do?" he asked. "You've never mentioned this."

"I didn't think of it until I heard Shika talking about going to the Academy."

That was a half-truth—more, I didn't think to mention it before today because I _assumed_ I would be going to the Academy. It wasn't until I overheard Maen and Shikaku discussing the prospect of me in civilian schooling and how I was bound to mentally scar a few teachers that I realized my assumption was misplaced.

"This is a big decision," he reiterated. "Have you really thought it through?"

"'Course I have," I huffed.

"Uh huh."

"I wanna do it, I know I do."

Maen reached over across the counter and picked up a towel. He rubbed his hands dry with it, buying himself a second to think my words over. His neutral expression remained intact.

"Alright," he conceded. "We'll get you signed up for the Academy next month."

I smiled. "Thanks."

 _Well, that was easy._

He nodded. "We've gotta go by the hospital, then, and get your medical records updated. In the meantime, I'm going get you started on your physical training—oh, and I'm going to get Yoshino to increase the pace of your reading lessons."

I groaned at that, and the grin I received in return was borderline sadistic. "Physical training?"

"Running laps, learning kata, running laps, doing pushups, running laps, doing sit ups—did I mention running laps?"

"You're cruel."

He shrugged and turned back to finish making dinner, but didn't deny the statement.

The table shook as my forehead dropped onto it.

* * *

The medic pressed the piece of wood against my tongue and hummed to himself, staring down into the depths of my throat. I fidgeted on the edge of the hospital bed. In an attempt tried to distract and avoid making awkward eye contact with the teenager, I averted my gaze up to the blank white ceilings.

"Say 'ah'," the medic said.

"Ahh."

The flashlight flicked on and off a couple of times before he was satisfied. He removed the stick and took a step back, slipping the flashlight into his back pocket. He reached over and picked up the clipboard to jot down a few notes, intermittently tapping the end of the pen against his lip in thought.

"So?" Maen asked from his spot in the corner.

The medic flicked his eyes—which were a lovely shade of blue—over to Maen. "Everything's peachy."

"How about her coils?"

"Ah," he said, shifting to set the clipboard down at the foot of the bed. "They're still inactive."

Maen frowned. "Damn."

"I'd suggest activating them now," he said. "She's going to have a headache and a touch of nausea for a couple of days following it, just while her body adjusts, so it'll probably better to get it out of the way now."

"I was planning on it."

"Uh, what?" I asked.

At my intervention, both of them turned to look at me.

The medic gave a little laugh. "Do you know what chakra is?"

"Kinda."

"Well, you see, everybody has spiritual and physical energy that makes up their chakra. It moves all through our body in these things called pathways," he explained. He poked a finger against my chest and then dragged it up to my shoulder, down through my arm, and ended at the tips of my fingers. "Our body is always making more chakra and keeping it flowing through the pathways."

The medic paused. He moved his head to look at Maen, his expression uncertain. Maen gave him a nod.

Somewhat annoyed at being brushed off, I said, "I get it."

"Good. Okay, so there is a minimum amount of chakra that your body needs moving through it to keep it alive. If somebody is only producing that minimum amount of chakra, without creating excess, then their pathways are considered 'inactive'. People who have inactive pathways can't use their chakra for anything—no jutsu, no cool super strength, nothing. That's what your body is doing right now."

As he talked, the medic rummaged around the room. He rolled his chair back to get at a cabinet off to the side and pulled out a fresh pair of white gloves to snap on.

"Having 'active' pathways means that your body is using more than the minimum amount of chakra in their pathways and can produce excess chakra. People with active pathways are able to learn how to perform jutsu and make use of their chakra. If people do start using chakra, more than just what their body uses in their pathways, that's when they'll begin developing what are known as reserves—extra chakra that their body stores for them."

I mulled over the information, trying to apply it to what little I knew about chakra from the show. "So, like… ninja are the ones who have the reserves, right?"

"That's right."

"Huh." A thought occurred to me. "Wait, do all the other Academy students have to get this done?"

"Not quite. It's, ah… complicated. You see, there are a few ways somebody's pathways can open up. Any kunoichi will give birth to children with active pathways, 'cause chakra reserves are stored in the belly right by where the fetus sits in the womb, and the exposure to chakra opens the pathways," he explained, gesturing to the rough areas on his own body as he spoke. "Civilians who have active pathways are able to pass it on biologically, too, but it doesn't happen that often."

He leaned back into his chair and tilted his head, a finger raised to his chin. "It's also possible for you to open it up on your own if you spend enough time trying to use your chakra, sorta like working a muscle." He gave a shrug. "The ones who have to come in and have them activated manually are in the same boat as you—just didn't have any of the above happen."

"Oh."

He grinned. It made him look young, even more than he already did. He couldn't be older than sixteen or seventeen. "Interesting stuff, yeah?"

I nodded. "Do I get to learn 'bout this in the Academy?"

"A little," he said. "You get an intro to the basics of chakra in your first year. You'll get a bit more in-depth stuff in the second and third year."

"Cool."

The medic scribbled a few more things down as he shuffled his chair closer to where I was. He parked it in front of me and set the clipboard back down at my side.

"Alright. To activate your chakra pathways, I need to use a bit of my own chakra to kickstart them," he said. The medic stood from his chair and smiled down at me. "This'll only take a second. When I activate your paths, you're going to feel some tingling. You might feel some pressure, too, like somebody giving you a really tight hug—don't panic if you do, okay? Just relax and all of it will be over in a minute."

"Okay."

His palm was warm as he pressed it against atop my head.

There was nothing, for a second. Then the warmth increased and the tingling he mentioned blossomed out, down from my scalp to the centre of my forehead, to my throat, and branched out from there to the rest of my body. It was an almost pleasant sensation—until it hit the end of its path, the tips of my toes, where my body met my shadow, brought to life by the afternoon sun.

Like a switch had been flipped the world around me exploded in _feeling_. There were things and sensations and noises around me, an overload of _stuff_ , of _fuzz_ , of _heat._

My fingers curled around the edge of the bed as if to brace myself against the onslaught. Eyes wide, my gaze shot around the room, trying to comprehend what I could see was there, what I could feel was there. Tears burned in the corners of my eyes. My mouth opened in a silent scream as my entire body seized up in panic, ice cold all through and white hot at the end of each nerve.

What the hell?

 _What the hell?_

All of it burned my skin and my eyes, my mind and my soul.

So much, so fast. Colours and… and _that stuff, what is that stuff?_

Hands were pressed against my shoulders. My gaze jerked forward to look at Maen. His lips were moving but the words were lost on me, drowned out along with the rest of the world out by the ringing my ears. His brows were furrowed together and while his face was composed, his grip on my shoulders was shaky.

His face was there, _he_ was there, but there was something else as well, a brightness, like a surge of sunlight that was imposed over his visage. The light pulsed and ebbed.

The edges of my vision began to grey.

There was one comprehensible thought in my mind amid the panic. "It… it hurts…"

His face tightened. He turned and directed a handful of words at somebody else—the medic, who was stood by the door with a stricken expression. The medic looked to Maen, paused, then nodded and bolted from the room.

Even though I couldn't _see_ where the medic was going, I could _feel_ the shift in the world around me as he ran through the hospital.

Spots danced over my vision. My breath started to come in gasps as I felt my consciousness start to fade, my body shutting down underneath the weight of the heightened awareness I was experiencing. The grey curled in, overtaking more of my vision with each second that ticked by.

Maen's gaze moved downward and his eyes widened. The last thing I saw was the brief flash of horror that marred his features before everything faded to black and my body went limp.

.

.

Maen leant back in the uncomfortable plastic chair and took a drag from his cigarette, his head settled against the bleached white walls.

He figured smoking was prohibited in the hospital, but he wasn't in any mood to care.

He'd been there for three hours, sitting and waiting in front of Kasumi's hospital room, stuck stewing on the situation. There was nothing he could do to help. The medics were in there, trying to work out what happened; he had his own suspicions, which didn't match up with what the medics had told him an hour prior, but he didn't think voicing them would be productive. He wasn't a medic, after all. He could think they were wrong all he wanted but that didn't make him right.

He heaved a sigh.

"You're definitely not supposed to be doing that."

Maen turned towards the voice of his cousin, whose eyes were on the cigarette. "You think anybody has the guts to try and tell me that?" he asked.

"With a look on your face like that? Not a chance." Shikaku strolled forward, hands in his pockets. The closer he got, the easier it was for Maen to pick out the hints of tension that were threaded through his body, pinching his face and tightening his shoulders. "What happened? The chunin you sent didn't give me any details."

"The medic activated her pathways and she freaked—panicked, said… said it 'hurt'."

Those were words he didn't think he could ever forget. The _look_ on her face, the _tremble_ in her voice, they were burned into his mind.

He never wanted to see or hear her say that ever again—he wouldn't, not so long as he lived and had anything to say about it. Nara may have their lazy reputation and fulfil it well, but everybody knew that the second a Nara got motivated, they were a force to be reckoned with. There was a reason that it was a Nara who held the title of youngest acting Jonin Commander, and the laziest of them all, to boot.

"Do they know why?"

"They think she's hypersensitive to chakra," Maen said. "The second her yin chakra kicked in the sensitivity did too, and her body had a negative reaction to its own chakra."

"You don't believe them?" Shikaku asked, catching the unsaid implication.

Maen shook his head. "No. I think she might be a sensor."

Shikaku's eyebrows shot up. "Why?"

"She… it was like she was _looking_ at everything. Her eyes were moving like crazy and her pupils were dilated. She wasn't just feeling something, she was seeing something."

Shikaku exhaled through his nose, a slow release of air. "What else aren't you telling me?" he asked. "You and I both know a civilian can't be born a sensor."

"Remember that odd invisibility bloodline that the ninja who killed her parents had?"

There was a beat of silence.

Shikaku let out a groan. His hand rose to pinch the bridge of his nose and his eyes closed tight. "You're shitting me."

"It was only her hand, and I don't think she actually knew that she did it, but there's no denying it was the same technique."

"And because her pathways were inactive, her mom must have been civilian, and her dad was a ninja," Shikaku muttered. "Kid just wasn't lucky enough to have her dad pass on active pathways."

"But he did pass on a blood limit. If he can pass on that, I don't see why he couldn't pass on sensing abilities as well."

Shikaku nodded. "Well, at least now we know why they chased you across the damn country for the kid," he said. He walked forward, pausing to clap a hand against Maen's shoulder, then continued forward towards the hospital room. "I'm going to go talk to them—they'll listen to what I have to say. Give me a few minutes to try and explain this."

.

.

"There's not really much we can do for her, sir, if that's the case."

"You can't just force them down?"

"No, sir. She's the only one who can actually shut them off. Even when she does, though, she'll retain a certain level of passive awareness that will take time for her to adjust to. All we can do is keep her calm, reduce her pain, and take the severity of it down a notch, but those are temporary measures at best, things we can do while she learns how to control it herself."

"Well… shit."

"I agree with the sentiment, sir."

The first two weeks after having my pathways opened were a bit of a blur, a side-effect of the drugs they had me on to keep me calm and dampen my sense while I learned to reign it in. I was fine with that. All of the memories would have consisted of ugly hospital rooms, terrible food, drug-induced giggling, and the monotonous process of meditating for hours on end while I messed around with my newfound ability.

There wasn't much there to be missed.

After getting over the initial waves of shock that tore through my system from developing an additional sense, having my chakra sense open wasn't as severe. The extra level of awareness was uncomfortable, even borderline painful when the hospital was especially busy and chakra was flaring everywhere, but none of the time I spent learning to get a grip on my senses had been anywhere near as bad as that first day.

Most of the work on controlling my sense had been done in my own time after the medics vacated the room and Maen was gone home for the night, when it was just me and the sea of dormant chakra signatures around me. Shutting off my sense was one of those things that, once it clicked, I was able to do it as easily as I could close my eyes—well, for the most part. There was the small radius around me that lingered, but the few sensors that were brought in to provide assistance told me that I'd get used to it.

They were right. By the time I was discharged from the hospital, that brief area of awareness had dulled into a manageable buzz in the back of my mind.

I watched the goings on in the village from my vantage point on Maen's back; there was a surplus of people milling around under the evening sun.

With my senses firmly sectioned off and shut down, I couldn't _see_ the chakra of the people who passed us by, but I could _feel_ it. It was disconcerting, having the intangible knowledge that there was something there without having any type of visual indication of its existence, like being able to hear the tinkling of wind chimes without being able to see them sway in the breeze. Part of my mind was certain that I was imagining things, while the other part was insisting that _there is so much stuff around_.

The sense-based dissonance was, admittedly, messing with me.

"Hey, kiddo," Maen murmured, shifting me so I sat a bit higher up on his back. "How're you doing?"

"M'fine," I said. "Just… a lot of people around."

"Yeah? Want me to take the rooftops?"

I grimaced, recalling the nausea and noodle legs I'd gotten the last time he had done that. "Nah. This is… it's fine, honest."

"Alright."

Truthfully, being around the village, with the overabundance of civilians, wasn't anywhere near as bad as the hospital had been. The whole building had been like one massive blow horn, blaring on my raw sense.

The chakra in the civilians, though, was toned down and calm when compared to any of the ninja who wandered among them, a flickering flame in contrast to a roaring bonfire.

"What're you doin' with your chakra?" I asked, the words muffled by his shoulder. "It's all… weird looking."

He snorted. "'Weird looking'?"

"I dunno how to explain it."

"I'm suppressing it," he said.

"You can do that?"

He hiked me up again. "Yeah, it takes some practice, but most higher level ninja learn to do it."

"Huh."

As we walked the rest of the way home, I closed my eyes and watched the world around me through my sense. It was almost like having a series of fairy lights shining against my eyelids, a sea of stars set against a backdrop of black in my mind. Aside from the obvious fact that the lights represented chakra signatures, I didn't know what made the lights different from each other, why some shifted and some were still, why some were pulsed and others were a steady light. Opening my sense didn't help me with that, either; opening my sense only served to provide me with further details to the signatures that I didn't yet understand.

It would take time.

I would figure it out, though. I had to.

* * *

"Hey, Kasumi."

My pencil stilled on the page. From my spot on the couch, I answered, "Yeah?"

"Come over here. We need to talk about something."

 _That_ wasn't ominous at all.

"'Kay." I tossed my drawing pad onto the other side of the couch and walked over to the kitchen table where he was sitting, two cups of tea already in the ready position. "Is something going on?"

Maen scratched the back of his head, his lips pulled down in a frown. "Sorta. It has to do with what happened when your pathways were open."

He pushed my chair out for me with his foot. I sat down and instinctively cradled my cup of tea between my palms.

"What, something 'bout my senses?"

"No," he said. He cleared his throat. "I think you might have a blood limit."

The words rolled over me. They didn't sink in at first. It took a second of Maen watching me expectantly for the weight of his statement—because there was a certainty in his voice that made his declaration a statement of fact, not a wild guess—to dawn on me.

"I—uh, what?"

"It happened right after your pathways were activated," he said. "You were in shock and occupied with everything going on, so you probably didn't notice it, but your hand disappeared."

"My… my hand… disappeared?"

"Up to the wrist. It was brief, and it went back to normal when you passed out, but it did happen."

The implications that came along with me having a blood limit were startling.

One of my parents had been a ninja.

Though, thinking on the information I received earlier about the way chakra pathways work, I could already discern which one of my parents had been a ninja—my pathways were closed, and all kunoichi passed on active pathways to their children. My mother was born and raised in Kiso, a village that lacked any trace of ninja activity.

But my father was a foreigner in Kiso, something that people never let him forget.

"Papa was a ninja."

Maen nodded. "That's what Shikaku and I figured."

"He never… he never _did_ anything, no weird jutsu stuff, _nothing_."

"It makes sense," he said. "With the, uh… circumstances that brought you here."

He was right, of course he was, but…

"He never told me," I murmured. My grip on the cup tightened. "Why… why didn't he ever _tell me_?"

That was what got me, the fact that he hid it from me. There were never stray weapons lying around the house, he didn't use chakra to take shortcuts on the farm, his movements didn't hold the same kind of unnatural grace that most other ninja had.

He seemed so damn _normal_.

Had Mama known? Had her family known when they agreed to let the two marry?

What the hell was a rogue ninja—that was what he had to have been, as with a blood limit came a clan, and with a clan came some kind of affiliation he shirked in favour of a village life away from all things ninja—doing in a Kiso, of all places?

I was bursting with questions and the fact that I'd never get those answers burned like nothing else.

"It was probably for your own good—you and your mom."

"Not like it worked."

Maen stared.

His lips were parted like he wanted to say something, wanted to help, but couldn't find the right words. I blew out a breath between my lips and set my cup down on the table, slipped off of my chair, shuffled around the table, and crawled into his lap.

Words may not have been Maen's strong suit, but he had developed into quite the competent cuddle-buddy under my tutelage. Really, he was damn lucky that physical comfort was just as, if not more effective, than emotional comfort when it came to calming me down, because if I had been somebody who needed soothing words he would have been screwed.

His arms wrapped around me and he settled his chin on top of my head.

"We'll figure it out, kiddo."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."


	9. Academy: Part 2

.

* * *

 _Blood makes you related, but love makes you a family._

* * *

I wheezed, my hands braced on my knees.

The sun beat down on me. It was hot and heavy, enough to make me sweat even if I wasn't already sweating from the laps I'd run around the Nara training grounds.

Maen hadn't been exaggerating with the emphasis he put on laps when outlining my physical training—he had me running an _absurd_ amount of them. In part, I figured it was because he could lounge off under a tree while I did them, but I knew there was a more legitimate reason for me to do them.

I needed to build up my endurance, and I needed to do it fast. Most of the clan kids who would become my peers in one month's time, even Shikamaru, already started their ninja training upwards of a year ago, which put me at a distinct disadvantage. I had no physical prowess to speak of before I started training; I was a bit of a lazy child. I liked to draw and sleep in the sun and, since gaining my chakra sense, observe the world through that lens.

Run around the village and play with other kids? Not my style.

That was why, between Maen and myself, I couldn't decide which of us had been more surprised when I found that I enjoyed the exertion.

I supposed it was the ninja blood that ran through my veins.

After spending half an hour jogging around my lungs burned, my muscles ached, and my entire body was covered with the sheen of perspiration, but there was a smile on my face.

"How… many was that?" I asked, the words coming out between huffed breaths.

"Fifteen," Maen answered. "Two more than last week."

"Wonderful."

I walked the length of the field and let my breathing even out, my muscles relax some. Five minutes passed when I collapsed beside Maen and languished under the shade that the foliage above provided. He let me lean against him, as he always did during the break I was allotted after running.

We were set in a routine with training.

We got to the field at noon every second day. It started with a series of warm-up stretches. That was followed by the basic conditioning he ran me through, push ups, sit ups, crunches, what have you. Then there were the laps, half an hour of jogging around the expansive field that stretched out from beside the Nara training grounds. When all of that was finished, the chakra work began, my practice with chakra control, my chakra sense, and my blood limit. It was the same each time. The whole thing lasted an hour, sometimes a bit more, a length of time that was steadily growing as time passed.

Maen turned to look at me when I pulled myself up off of the ground and stretched my arms above my head.

"Which do you want to do first?" he asked.

I thought on it. "Blood limit," I decided. "I wanna be able to go home if I end up with a headache from working on my sense."

The two of us moved further into the clearing, away from all of the surrounding foliage that could interfere. We settled down across from each other. Both of us took up identical positions with our legs crossed and our hands in our lap.

I let my eyes fall shut and focused on the resonant, rhythmic sound of Maen as he breathed. I felt the spark of chakra on my senses as his shadow shifted forward across the ground and connected with my own. My breath halted for a second then kicked back into gear, matching the beat of Maen's.

"Shadow Possession complete," he murmured, the words an afterthought, a habitual uttering that few Nara ever broke away from. "Ready?"

"Yeah."

"Alright," he said. "Just relax."

"I know."

It had been months of Maen using this technique to help me train my blood limit. Still, I couldn't get used to the sensation as my own chakra, my own shadow, wrapped itself around me like a second skin. It wasn't comfortable but it wasn't _un_ comfortable. The energy pulsed and writhed, buzzing against my senses without overwhelming them.

Around my feet, up my legs, snaking across my abdomen. It branched off as it hit my chest and swallowed up my arms and head simultaneously.

"I'm going to let go," Maen warned.

"I've got it."

The tagged on 'sort of' went unsaid with that statement.

Maen released the jutsu and my chakra immediately began to recede, curling outwards from the centre of my chest. I tried to hold onto it, maintain it, but it was _hard_ , like grasping onto air or catching water in your fist as it poured from a waterfall. The chakra slipped between my fingers despite my best efforts.

I managed to halt the chakra as it reached my ankles and wrists. At that point, the only things I was capable of keeping under the jutsu—technique— _whatever_ —were my extremities. The chakra hovered over my hands and feet, wavered in my hold.

I let out a deep breath. I yanked at the chakra, fought to move it back up to where it had been. It moved up an inch, held for a half a breath, then the chakra collapsed entirely and fell away.

"Not bad," Maen said.

I opened my eyes. "How long was that?"

"Twenty seconds."

"Same as last time, then."

"Yeah."

I flopped back onto the grass. "Can I have a minute before we go again?"

"Sure, kiddo."

.

.

"How's her training been going?"

Maen turned to Shikaku, whose eyes still rested on the two children cuddled up together under a tree. All Shikamaru and Kasumi ever seemed to do when they were together was sleep. Shikaku's house, his house, around the compound, at the park. They were like two puppies. All Kasumi had to do was see Shikamaru and she started yawning.

"Good," Maen answered. "Her athleticism is improving at a good rate. She's nearly doubled the amount of time she can run for, and how fast she can do it since I started her on this regime."

"Huh. I didn't peg her as the type."

"Neither did I."

"Think her dad might have specialized in taijutsu?"

Maen shrugged. "Hard to say. Maybe? She inherited good chakra control too, as far as I can tell, so it's possible."

Shikaku's face soured. "You think they used augmented chakra taijutsu in combination with their blood limit?"

"It's possible."

"That's a horrifying thought," he said. His expression shifted back to something more thoughtful. "Has she seen any improvement on that front?"

"Her blood limit?" Maen asked, and received a nod in reply. "Not really. She can hold it a bit longer, and she moved her chakra up a bit on her own earlier today, but that's as far as she's gotten."

Shikaku sighed. "The council's been badgering me for updates."

"Tell them to shove it."

"I _did_. You know how they are."

"Did you glare when you do it?"

Shikaku flapped a hand and leant further back against the trunk of the tree. "Yeah, but they aren't fazed by that anymore."

"I don't believe that—you make jonin shit their pants with that glare."

"Jonin are one thing but Danzo Shimura is in a league all his own, the stubborn bastard."

"What does he care?"

"Hell if I know, but I already told him that if he wants further updates, he can go ask Lord Hokage, 'cause I'm not telling him anything."

"Neither will Lord Hokage."

"Exactly."

Maen sighed and rubbed his hand across his face. "What are they looking for? We're not even lying, we _don't_ have any answers to give them."

"They're still set on prodding her to see if they can figure out what makes her tick."

"Over my dead body."

The dark look that flashed over Shikaku's features suggested he too felt something akin to that.

Maen knew what they'd be doing.

It had been recognized that more than likely, her panic was what triggered her ability to harness the blood limit. Since her pathways were opened, she hadn't been able to use it herself. If he used his shadow to manipulate it and put it over her, she could hold parts of it, but only for a short period of time.

The fact of the matter was, they had essentially no information about her blood limit.

The connection to her shadow was something the sensors stumbled upon when they were brought in to help her learn to control her chakra sense. More than one noted her shadow held an uncharacteristic charge of chakra to it. Everybody had some of their yin chakra stored in their shadow, as it was as much a part of the soul as anything else, but what Kasumi had stored there was not only more copious than it should have been, it was also abnormal in nature.

Maen didn't understand what that meant until his first time using the Shadow Possession jutsu on her. He actually failed on his first attempt which, at the time, took him off guard. He, a jonin of Konoha, one of the top ninja of his clan, struggled to make a proper bond with her shadow on his first go. He couldn't recall the last time that had happened to him, but he was damn sure it hadn't been since he was a genin.

He got it on his second try and was able to fully cover her in the blood limit around his fourth or fifth, but he was still thrown off by the fact that he didn't get it right away.

The chakra that made up her shadow was like smoke. He could feel that it was there but it didn't come off as solid and corporeal in the way most shadows did. Shikaku noted much the same thing but didn't have any issues with getting a proper bond established when he tried. Kasumi herself even described it to be something along those lines when she tried to hold her blood limit in place.

Maen knew from experience that it wasn't unusual for clans with a yin-based blood limit to also develop a specialized form of yin chakra to accompany it. The Nara had special yin chakra, as did the Yamanaka, the Kurama, and the list went on. However, none were quite as volatile and distinct as hers was, if the assessments from the sensors were any indication.

Those were the only blanks they had been able to fill in, something that the council was less than thrilled about. They saw a potential weapon that they wanted to wield when they looked at Kasumi, and he knew the extents to which they would go to if they were dead-set on figuring her blood limit out.

They knew that panic would enable her to use it, and they'd take advantage of that if they tried to forcefully activate it. Having both Shikaku and the Hokage on his side meant that the council's chance of getting at her was a resounding _no way in hell_ , but the situation set Maen on edge all the same.

The sound of feet stomping across the field pulled him from his thoughts.

Yoshino stormed towards them, face set in a determined fury. Maen was reminded that Shikaku wasn't the only person in his family who could make people soil themselves with a single, well-placed look.

"What did you do?"

Shikaku's skin was ashen. "I was supposed to pick up groceries for dinner when I was out in the village earlier."

"Ah. I'll make sure your grave is under a nice tree."

"Appreciated."

* * *

As we approached the Academy, I let my sense open to scope out the building. I regretted it some when a barrage of chakra was revealed to me, bright and bursting with energy in the way that only the signature of ninja children seemed to manage.

"See anything interesting?" Maen asked, tugging on my hand to get my full attention.

It dawned on me that I had spaced out and stopped walking. I closed my sense, shook my head to clear it.

"Lots of kids."

"Brilliant observation."

I huffed. "You're always such a meanie."

"I agree," Shikaku said. He and Shikamaru were walking a few feet ahead of us. "You're a meanie, Maen."

Maen let go of my hand and raised his palm to set it against my eyes. I couldn't see it, but I could feel the shift in his signature as he raised his free-hand, middle finger sticking up.

My sense had evolved in the two months since I'd gained them. That was aided by the fact that I spent a significant amount of my free-time meditating and making use of my sense. It increased in range some, but I struggled to give that range any type of numerical value—I just knew it was expanding. My ability to discern detail had skyrocketed, though, especially when my eyes were closed and I had nothing but the chakra displayed to me against the blank canvas of my mind.

Shikaku snorted.

"Why'd you do that?" I asked, unable to resist.

Maen's chakra signature jolted. "What?"

"I felt your hand do something weird—your middle finger went up."

Shikaku's signature jolted as well, but there was a churning in the way his chakra moved around him that I assumed signalled amusement. "Oh, you're _dead_ if Yoshino finds out," he said.

Maen pulled his hand off my eyes and knelt down in front of me, his expression sombre. His hands rested on my shoulders. "If you don't tell Yoshino that I did that, I won't make you help me with the dishes for a week."

"Really?"

"Really."

"Deal."

Maen ruffled my hair. "Good."

"How do you know I won't snitch on you?" Shikaku asked, tugging a half-asleep Shikamaru forward.

"If you do, I'll tell Yoshino who keeps eating her strawberries before she has the chance to pick them."

"You _know_?"

"I've watched you do it."

"Great," Shikaku grumbled. "Fine, fine. I'll keep my mouth shut."

Maen smirked down at me. "Just remember, kiddo—when in doubt, blackmail is always a good option."

I grinned. "Got it."

"You're awful."

.

.

The opening ceremonies were full of boring speeches and propaganda.

Shikamaru and I had been abandoned from the beginning, left to fend for ourselves while Maen and Shikaku made a break for it. We ended up finding Choji and Ino, both also abandoned by their respective parents, and sat with them throughout the entire thing.

I tuned out for most of it while Shikamaru conked out five minutes in, his head set on my shoulder and his snores in my ears. I napped with him for a few minutes near the end, too, before Ino jostled us awake with an annoyed squawk about "lazy Nara". I wasn't sure if she didn't know that Maen wasn't my birth parent—it wasn't like we looked alike, either—or if she knew and didn't care, but I wasn't going to be the one to correct her.

We were some of the last ones to make it into the classroom.

Ino broke away from us and joined some other girls at a table. Shikamaru, Choji, and I made it to the back of the room before we realized that it was only two people to a desk and that we couldn't all sit together.

At the table to the left of where we ended up sat a familiar blond, entirely on his own, eyes downcast.

 _Hello, plot._

 _It's lovely to see you._

Shikamaru and Choji looked between each other, then to me. I waved them off.

"I'll just sit here."

"You don't mind?" Choji asked.

"Nah," I said. "It's fine."

Shikamaru shrugged. "Whatever."

Naruto watched me sit down with a closed off, wary expression, his eyes darting around my face as if waiting for my features to twist into an expression of disgust and his shoulders squared in defiance.

There was no sunny grin on his face or exuberant cheering about his greatness.

That was the face of a five-year-old who had seen things no child should see, heard things no child should hear, hurt in ways no child should hurt. My heart clenched. His eyes, a brilliant blue as bright as the summer sky, weren't shining as he watched me stand there beside the desk table—they were dull.

I didn't bother stopping to worry about the consequences of my actions as I set my bag beside the desk and plopped down into the seat, offering him a small smile. At that moment I didn't care because right in front of me was a child who needed a damn friend more than anything else in the world and I knew that nobody else would be willing to be there for him.

Could it have screwed things up? Maybe.

Could it have zero effect on the future of the world? Also maybe.

There wasn't any way to be certain, so what was the point in agonizing over it—what I knew without a doubt, though, was that nobody else would give him a chance, not for a long time, and that was all Naruto needed.

I'd been given mine already, so didn't he deserve to be given one too?

"Hi," I said. "My name's Kasumi."

"Naruto," he said.

"Cool."

I turned back to the front where Iruka was getting settled at his desk. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a grin break out over Naruto's face; the smile on my face widened.

It was a start.

* * *

"My face doesn't look like that."

"Yes, it does."

"Nu-uh!" Naruto protested, cheeks puffed out and arms crossed over his chest. "I'm way more handsome than that."

Shikamaru snorted. "No, you're not."

"This picture is plenty handsome!" I said. "I even got the whiskers right!"

"Those are whiskers?" Choji asked. He leant forward off of the tree to squint at the paper, then fell back against it. "Oh."

"Aw, come on," I said. "I think this one is pretty good!"

"You've done better," Shikamaru answered. "That farm one you did a couple months ago was pretty good."

"Eh? Farm one?" Naruto asked.

He scooted closer and reached for the sketch pad. I pulled it out of his range. "No grabbing."

"Awh, come on Kasumi—I wanna see it!"

"Nope."

"Please?"

His lips jut out and his eyes went wide, hands clasped in front of him.

"That's not fair," I whined. "Don't—don't _do_ that!"

"You're so dramatic," Shikamaru said.

"Those things are a weapon!" I hissed, forcing myself to look away. "You don't know because he never uses them on you."

"Wouldn't matter if he did."

I pulled the pad up and held it in front of me, blocking Naruto out of my view.

The fall breeze swept over us, rustling what few leaves were left on the trees in the park, chilled with a bite that foretold of the coming of winter despite the fact that the sun still shone bright in the sky.

"Just one quick look? Please?"

"It's just a picture, Naruto."

"He only wants to see so bad 'cause you didn't just show it to him in the first place," Shikamaru drawled.

"Thank you, peanut gallery," I said. "Your input is always appreciated."

"Pretty please?"

"I kind of wanna see it too," Choji said.

I sighed. "Fine."

Naruto let out a whoop, sidling up beside me, Choji joining him.

I flipped through some of the pages, my eyes grazing over the images as I went, the images flashing past. None of them were particularly high-quality—pudgy kid hands could only do so much—but they were at least recognizable, and increased in skill the further into the book that I went.

That was especially true for the picture of the farmhouse. Shikamaru was right when he said that it was good—it was probably the best in the entire book, as I had spent _weeks_ sketching it out from memory.

"Whoa," Naruto said.

His face hovered over the page, filling my sight with a shock of blonde hair.

"I've never seen a farm," Choji admitted over a mouthful of chips. He sat back, so as not to get any food on the paper. "Did you base it off of a picture from a book?"

"No," I said. "That's my old home."

"Oh."

"Whoa! You lived on a farm? That's so cool!"

"Yeah," I murmured.

I traced a finger across the image, the movement measured and soft to avoid smudging the lines.

The fact that the picture in front of me was more detailed than any memory I could sum up now made looking at it all the more painful. My memories were fading. I knew they would, I was no stranger to that sort of mental disruption, but that didn't change the fact that with each passing day my parent's faces grew harder to recall, that the images of my old home grew blurrier, and that it _fucking burned_.

I pencilled out equally detailed portraits of my parents in the book, drew out every single memory from Kiso that I could with painstaking care, but the pictures weren't enough. They couldn't replace the memories.

"So, wait, what are you doing in Konoha—"

Before he could finish, I turned to Shikamaru and asked, "What time were we supposed to be back?"

Shikamaru, who was tuned out of the conversation, blinked. "Huh?"

"When were we supposed to be back?" I asked again.

He shrugged. "Dunno. Probably… five minutes ago."

"Well, then," I said. "We should really get going, then."

Shikamaru turned away from me. "I don't wanna get up," he whined.

"Sucks to suck," I said. "Bye guys!"

I grabbed Shikamaru's wrist with my free hand and hauled him off the ground. He was dead weight in my grip. Rather than drag him, I let go. He flopped onto the ground in a heap but dragged himself back up to slouch after me.

"Goodbye," Choji said.

Naruto looked confused at the abrupt end of the conversation, the smile on his face dimmed and his eyebrows knit together, but he still echoed Choji's words as he waved goodbye to Shikamaru and I.

Maybe one day I would be comfortable getting into that, but that day wasn't today, not yet.

.

.

"Maen!"

Maen turned in time to brace himself when I threw myself at his leg. I held to it, arms around it in a vice grip and my face buried into the fabric of his pants, not caring about anything other than the fact that he was back.

He wheezed out a laugh and moved me from his leg to his hip. "Hey," he murmured, a small smile on his face. "How've you been?"

My hands came down against his cheeks, one palm pressed against each side of his face. He raised an eyebrow but didn't pull away.

I ignored the question. "Meanie," I said. "You said three weeks."

"It wasn't my fault," he answered. The words were muffled due to the fact that I hadn't moved my hands from his face. "It was somebody else."

Shikaku strolled into the room. "It's true," he said. "There was some stupid chunin—"

"Shikaku!" Yoshino cried from the kitchen.

"Stupid's not a bad word!"

"Badmouthing a comrade is poor manners!"

"Idiot deserves it," Shikaku muttered under his breath. He cleared his throat. "There was _a_ chunin on his team who was causing trouble."

The pout on my face disappeared and was replaced by a frown. "You're not hurt, right?"

"I'm fine," Maen said. He pulled my hands from his face—there was scruff on his cheeks, meaning he likely hadn't done more than shower since getting back. "Nothing bad happened, we just got slowed down a little."

"Oh. Okay." My head peeked over his shoulder, my attention drawn to the distant sizzling that drifted from the kitchen, the sound of food cooking on a pan. "Does Yoshino need help with dinner?"

Yoshino poked her head around the corner. "I'm fine, sweetheart. Don't worry about it!"

I wrapped my arms around Maen's neck and nuzzled my face against his shoulder—I wasn't going to complain.

I hadn't seen him in a _month_ , longer than I'd ever gone without him. Just feeling his signature brushing up against my sense was welcome, the familiarity of his chakra like a blanket wrapping over me, warm and comforting. I let that hold my thoughts—Maen wasn't telling me everything and neither was Shikaku. There were few things that could slow a mission down for an entire week, none of which were good.

It was better to focus on the positive, though, instead of letting myself get distracted by the hypothetical negative situations. Maen could have come back injured, or he might not have come back at all. He was a jonin, doing high ranking missions—the fact that he hadn't yet returned from a mission and required immediate hospitalization was something of a miracle. If I let myself worry about what could happen each time he went on a mission, I'd never be able to function while he was gone.

The two men settled down to a game of shogi.

Shikamaru and I both watched; Shikamaru was nestled in the lap of his father while I had situated myself in Maen's.

My grasp on the rules of shogi was shaky at best. I followed as well as I could, with some assistance from both Maen and Shikaku, but I found myself getting lost at some point during the game and giving up on following.

Instead, I listened to the sounds of pieces clanking against the game board, the two men bickering, and dinner being made in the background. My eyelids grew heavy, my shoulders eased. Maen raised a hand to run it through my hair, his eyes not wavering from the board in front of him. It was an unconscious movement, habitual, formed through the sheer volume of time I spent using him as a human pillow.

The thought brought a smile to my face.

It was moments like that where the weight against my chest, put there by the loss of my memories, of my old life in Kiso, didn't feel quite so heavy anymore.


	10. Academy: Part 3

_._

* * *

 _My personality is based on who I am,_

 _but my attitude is based on who you are._

* * *

Iruka sighed. He stared at the offending test on the desk in front of him and reclined in his chair, a cup of steaming hot tea in hand. The grade at the top was inked out in fresh red ink.

It wasn't a good grade, not even close—it was a bare pass.

It was such a nice spring day and here he was, stuck inside, grading and fretting over his students. He could have been out in the sun, grabbing a bite to eat with friends or training while the weather was agreeable instead of giving himself premature grey hairs.

He dropped the test and let it float down to land askew on top of the stack.

"Something the matter?"

Iruka looked to the other side of the teacher's lounge, locating the source of the voice.

A set of brown eyes were on him. Their owner twirled a strand of hair around her finger, the same shade of brown as her eyes.

"Ah, it's nothing to worry about, Kimi," he said, a sheepish smile on his face. "One of my students just got a poor test score, is all."

Kimi pushed aside her own impressive tower of marking and walked over to the table he was sitting at. She plucked up the test. "Kasumi Kurosawa," she read off. "Huh. She's not from a ninja family." Kimi dropped the test back onto the rest of his stack. "I was expecting one of the clan heirs, with how many of them you got, or that Uzumaki kid—why are you worried over a civilian kid's scores?"

"She's still my student," Iruka said, unable to keep all the bite from his tone. He forgot sometimes that not all of his fellow teachers bothered with the less 'important' students. "I care about all their scores."

Kimi held up her hands. "Alright, alright."

"Besides, she's under the care of a Nara, so she is from a ninja clan—she just doesn't have their name."

"Well… shouldn't it be an easy problem to fix, then? Just have her genius caretaker tutor her."

"She doesn't need tutoring, she needs motivation," Iruka muttered.

Kimi snorted. "So she's not a Nara by blood, but she is in spirit?"

"Yeah." His eyes grazed over the page again. "She's smart, I know she is. If she picked up her academic scores she'd be able to move up a grade, no problem—she's up near the top of her class in physical scores, a bit behind the Uchiha. She uses strategy when she fights, so I know she's capable of analytical thinking. Her reading comprehension is at least a year above her own age, so that's not an issue, either. Yet she barely pulls out a passing grade on her tests."

"She's bored and she doesn't care," Kimi summed up. "Does her caretaker know?"

Iruka let his head hit the back of the chair, recalling the conversation he had had with Maen Nara during Kasumi's first year. "He doesn't think it's an issue."

"Shocking."

"I don't really know what to do."

"Do nothing." Iruka looked at her and she shrugged. "You said it yourself, she still passed. It's not like there's anything academically valuable in the first three years—it's just about spreading the message of the Will of Fire and ensuring the kids get decent social skills."

"There are some important things to know."

"Like?"

"Foundational mathematics," Iruka said. "History. Basic biology."

"She's taijutsu heavy, she doesn't need the first two. She'll only need the basics of biology if she has a hyper-precise form of taijutsu, but even then, there's nothing there that she can't learn later."

Iruka sighed. As much as he wanted to shout to the rooftops that everything was worth learning, all of the material he was giving them was important, he knew from his own Academy experience that it wasn't. "Yeah, I guess you're right."

"I know I'm right." She paused, tilting her head. "Is she the same about her kunoichi classes?"

Iruka didn't know.

He pushed his chair back and grabbed at his bag. He brought along all of his student's files so he could mark their grades as he went, but at that moment, he wanted them for a different reason. His thumb brushed over her name, midway through the stack, and he splayed her file open on the table in front of them.

Kimi snatched it up off the table. "Average grades in flower arranging, average grades in music performance—oh, excellent grades in dancing and politics," she listed off. "Artistry, too. The kid can draw a damn good profile."

Iruka took the file back from her. "Oh, huh."

"She could have a future in infiltration," Kimi said. "She seems suited to undercover work."

"Ah, no, I don't think so."

"Really? Why?"

"She uh… she's got something of an abrasive personality. A bit of a hair temper."

Kimi waved a hand. "So does Anko Mitarashi and look at how much success she's had."

Iruka's face flushed bright red. "I don't think—"

"I know, most of her mission have a seduction element to them, but hey—if the kid turns out hot, she'll be fine."

"What—I don't—that's—"

Kimi smirked, cocking a hip and placing her hand on it, her expression haughty. "You're so easily flustered, Iruka."

"You shouldn't talk about a seven-year-old like that!"

"Why not? They're gonna grow up eventually and seduction is a perfectly valid line of profession."

"No, I'm not—I don't think there's anything _wrong_ with doing seduction work—"

"Yeah, yeah," Kimi said. "You're just proving my point with all of that stuttering."

"Go finish your work, Kimi."

Kimi turned on her heels and strut away, waving a hand over her shoulder. "Fine. I can see where I'm not wanted."

* * *

Shikamaru was roused from sleep when he heard his door crack open.

There was a brief second when light streamed in, glaring against his closed eyes. He groaned and ducked his head under his covers—he wanted to sleep. In an attempt to avoid the light, Shikamaru turned over, curled up into a ball against the wall.

He heard a muttered, "Shit."

There was the sound of a switch being flicked and the light died away; Shikamaru stayed where he was. It was warm under his covers.

He had a blanket cocoon. He liked his blanket cocoon.

Footsteps moving across his bedroom floor, a pillow being placed beside his, and somebody tugged the blanket free from where it was wrapped around his leg. The night air snuck in and he let out a whine, pawing at whoever was there.

"Hurr'up," he murmured, his words slurred.

"Yeah, yeah. I'm going."

Shikamaru shifted, waking up a little—her voice sounded off.

She crawled in beside him and pressed her face into his back, wrapping her arms around his stomach. Something damp leaked through the fabric of his shirt and hit his back.

She was crying.

That realization, too, pulled his mind further into awareness.

The words of his father echoed in his ears, words that had been spoken to him nearly three years ago, after the first time Kasumi had stayed over at his house. He couldn't remember them perfectly, but the words 'hug' and 'crying girl' had stuck in his mind. He could make the connections from there.

Troublesome.

He turned and threw an arm over her, goosebumps rising up along the spot where their skin met—she was ice cold.

"You're too cold… gonna take all the warm…"

"You're so dramatic."

"Nu-uh…"

"Go back to sleep, Shika." There was a pause. She adjusted to his new position, her arms circling his chest instead of his waist, her legs curling up so that her toes were brushing against his thighs. "Drool on me and you die."

"Shuddup…"

He knew she wouldn't actually follow through with that threat, but he still made a point of pulling his pillow further down before he let himself fall back into slumber.

Just in case.

* * *

Naruto watched the events unfold a few feet away with wide eyes. "Wow… she's really cool, huh?"

Shikamaru cracked one eye open, took in the scene in front of them, and closed it again. "Yeah, I guess."

Choji wrung his hands together, his chip bag sitting empty beside him. "She's going to get in trouble," he murmured. "We should stop her."

"I'm not doing it—I don't wanna get punched," Shikamaru said.

"Naruto, you go," Choji said. "She won't punch you."

"No way! I wanna see this."

A few feet away, the boy on the ground flailed his limbs, trying to yank his arms free and kick his legs out. Kasumi had both of his wrists in her hands and was able to dodge his kicks, hopping around him. When she could manage she would take slam the sole of her foot against his shins.

Naruto couldn't make out everything she was saying, but he could catch the snippets of her words that the wind carried their way.

"Idiot… calling him a monster… you don't even… stupid… little _shit_ …"

The school ground was empty save for their group. Everybody else had gone inside when the lunch bell sounded.

They would have gone inside, too, if it wasn't for the idiot that Kasumi was kicking senseless at that moment.

"She really shouldn't do that," Choji said. "My dad said we're supposed to use our words to solve our problems, not violence."

Naruto thought that was a funny advice from ninja—using violence to solve their problems was _literally the whole point of being a ninja_ —but he didn't say that out loud. He knew Choji could get upset sometimes when he said the wrong stuff, which he did a lot, and he didn't like to make Choji upset, 'cause Choji was so nice, so he just kept his mouth shut.

"He swung first," Shikamaru put in. "Plus, she's not even trying."

"Eh, you think?" Naruto asked.

Shikamaru waved a hand, not even bothering to look. "I've seen her train with Maen, this is nothing."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

"She's gonna get in trouble," Choji repeated. He was chewing on his fingernails in lieu of snacks. "We _really_ should stop her."

"She might get in a bit of trouble with Iruka, but Maen won't care, so it doesn't really matter."

The kid whined as Kasumi's foot connected with his leg again. Naruto didn't get it—the kid wasn't even bleeding, what was he crying about?

"He's being a bit of a baby," Naruto said. "She's just kicking his shins, and Shika even said she's holding back. Why doesn't he just break her grip or… like… fight back?"

Shikamaru snorted. "Have you ever tried to break her grip?"

Naruto rubbed the back of his neck. "Eh, no?"

"It's hard to do," Shikamaru said. "My dad made me spar with her once... it was horrible."

Their taijutsu scores had too big of a difference for them to ever get paired up during class. Naruto had watched her fight with the other kids but he'd never sparred with her, and he hadn't ever wanted to try—she was scary.

He wasn't scared _of_ her, as he didn't think she would ever hurt him since she liked him.

Still, watching her beat that kid up solidified the idea in his head that he had a super cool, super strong friend.

The thought brought a grin to his face.

"Kasumi!"

At the sharp words, Kasumi jumped away from the other boy and turned towards the source of the noise.

Iruka stalked past their group. He headed straight to where Kasumi stood, her shoulders squared and her hands fisted at her side, expression defiant. The boy had picked himself up off the ground and glared at the back of Kasumi's head, a couple of stray tears trailing down his face.

"Sensei!" the boy cried. "She was hitting me!"

"Yes, I saw," Iruka said. His gaze moved to Kasumi—Naruto was familiar enough with Iruka that he knew that, even without having a clear view of his face, Iruka was _mad_. "Explain yourself, now."

Kasumi didn't cower. "He started it," she said. "I was defending myself."

"What? No way!" the boy shouted. " _She_ started it!"

"No, I didn't," she snapped.

"You came up to me and started yelling and me and stuff, you were threatening me—"

"Okay, _no_ ," Kasumi said. "He's lying 'cause he knows that if he tells the truth he's gonna get in trouble."

"Tell me what happened."

"Toya was calling Naruto names—said he was a monster, that he should just go and die. I told Toya to stuff it and leave. _Toya_ hit me—"

"You were threatening me!"

"Don't interrupt her," Iruka said. "Keep going, Kasumi."

"Toya hit me and so I was just defending myself, honest."

Iruka pinched the bridge of his nose. "That looked like it went a bit past self-defence, don't you think?"

Kasumi opened her mouth to reply, paused, shut it again, and pursed her lips. Naruto liked to call that her 'thinking face'. "Yeah, it did," she answered. "He was being an idiot, though."

"You can't just hit people."

"I know, I know. Does that mean I have to apologize now? 'Cause I'm not really sorry."

Naruto saw Iruka rub at his face, a sigh leaving his lips. "Yes, Kasumi, you have to apologize."

Her mouth pulled into a scowl, her entire face morphing into an expression of distaste. "Fine," she said. She turned her head to look at Toya while the rest of her body stayed still. "I'm sorry, Toya."

Naruto saw that, behind her back where it wasn't visible to Iruka, she had her fingers crossed.

"Toya," Iruka said. "Accept her apology. Then I want you to apologize to her and Naruto."

Toya's face scrunched up like he'd taken a bite out of a lemon. "I accept your apology. I'm sorry, too," he bit out. He turned to Naruto and his expression intensified. "I'm sorry for being mean to you, Naruto."

Naruto scowled—he wasn't buying it. "Quit lying!"

Kasumi snickered but was silenced by a look from Iruka.

"Naruto," Iruka said. "You have to accept his apology."

"What, why? It's not like he means it."

"That doesn't matter—you're supposed to accept it and move on."

"He's right, Naruto," Choji whispered from beside him. "It's the right thing to do."

Naruto crossed his arms over his chest. He didn't want to do it but Iruka was giving him _that look_ , the one that meant that there was no weaselling his way out of things.

"Eh, I accept your apology, or whatever."

Iruka turned his eyes skyward as if there was anybody up there who would actually take pity on him.

"That'll have to do, I guess. Inside, the lot of you—I'll be seeing you after class, though, Kasumi and Toya. We're going to have a talk about this, and I'll be alerting your guardians."

* * *

Sasuke hit the ground hard, his back slamming against the mat. Distantly, he heard squealing and screaming of the female variety, which he ignored on reflex.

A hand entered his line of sight and he reached up to grab it, let the owner of it haul him to his feet.

"That was a good match, Sasuke," Kasumi said, a crooked grin on her face. "You almost got me."

He rolled his eyes. "Whatever."

He turned to where his stalkers, the ones with blonde and pink hair—he _refused_ to use their names or refer to them as his fangirls, even in his own head, because he thought it was giving them more than they deserved—were watching the interaction. Both glared at Kasumi, who had taken to shaking out her limbs and stretching.

She favoured Sasuke with a smug look. "Round two?" she asked. "There's no way you're done already."

"As if I would be done after one fight," he said, putting his attention back on her and as he moved into position.

"Good," she said. "This is the last chance we're getting to spar this year and I wanna be able to tell Maen that I kicked your ass twice in a row."

From across the gymnasium came a cry of, "Language, Kasumi!"

"Sorry!"

"You got lucky," he told her, ignoring her exchange with Iruka.

He knew it was a lie, he was fairly certain that she knew it was a lie, but he refused to admit, out loud, that she could beat him without getting lucky.

He wouldn't do it.

She was a strong fighter, the second-best in their year, second only to him, but she had a civilian name and the Uchiha had a reputation to uphold—there was no way that a civilian born ninja could be as good as him.

"Right, sure," she said. "If that's what you need to think to keep you happy."

She cracked her knuckles and her neck.

"Shut up and fight, Kurosawa," he said.

Her grin widened. "Gladly."


	11. Academy: Part 4

.

* * *

 _Without change, there is no innovation, creativity, or incentive_

 _for improvement. Those who initiate change will have a better opportunity_

 _to manage the change that is inevitable._

* * *

"Whenever you're ready, kiddo."

"Okay," I said.

Deep breath in, deep breath out.

The world around me danced with chakra in every direction, pulsing and chafing against my sense, but I focused my attention on the blot in front of me—my own chakra. The chunk of my yin chakra that was given shape by the evening sun behind me.

I reached out to touch the shadow that was splayed across the grass in front of me and pulled.

The chakra slipped away at first, refusing to be harnessed, but I was resolute and I kept grabbing and tugging and _yanking_ it towards me, coaxed it onto the tip of my fingers. There wasn't anywhere near as much resistance as there used to be. That said, it was a struggle to initiate the technique.

Once the first prick of chakra coated the pad of my middle finger it grew more malleable, more willing, curled out towards my touch. Three seconds ticked by as I weaved an unstable coat of armour over every inch of my skin with the chakra, forcing it into the form of my desire.

It remained intact for two seconds and shattered. The chakra streamed off of my skin and pooled on the ground beside me, back in its place as my shadow.

I rocked back into a sitting position and closed off my chakra sense, staring at Shikaku and Maen.

"So you have to touch it?" Shikaku asked, thumbing the goatee that sprouted from his chin. "That's the only way you can do it by yourself?"

"Yeah."

"Interesting," he murmured.

"My hands are the easiest, right now, just 'cause I can actually see it and it's a small area," I explained. I looked down at my hand and flexed my fingers. "I can watch the chakra attach to my fingers and how it moves up from there—that's the hard part, the first bit. Once I've got a decent hold it's easier for me to control it."

"Your ability to use it is coinciding with your actual chakra control, right?" Shikaku asked. At my nod, his attention turned to Maen. "How's she doing there?"

"She's improving quickly," Maen answered. "She's got a strong grasp on the leaf exercise. I'm going to try her on tree-walking soon."

"You think she can do it?"

Maen shrugged. "Doesn't really matter—the practice of gathering her chakra at her feet is going to be useful to her regardless."

Shikaku's head bobbed in a slow nod. "Her feet are what touch her shadow when she's standing up," he said, making the leap in logic. "If she can harness her chakra in her feet then she can more easily use her kekkei genkai when she's standing up. Plus, just working on it'll be a source of practice for her chakra control, so it's a two in one."

"Exactly."

"Can we start now?" I asked.

Both men turned to look at me.

"Well," Maen said, "we've got time, so I don't see why not."

Maen stretched out from his spot on the ground, his body emitting a string of pops and cracks that had me cringing.

"Nasty," I muttered.

Maen took the liberty of smacking me behind the head as he ambled towards one of the largest trees in the area.

"Get over here, kiddo," he said. "Before I die of old age."

"You're well on your way already."

That was a lie, as Maen's twenty-sixth birthday had passed a month prior, but the comment elicited a snort from Shikaku.

"Hilarious," Maen said. "Hurry up."

"Yeah, yeah. I'm coming."

I crossed the clearing to where he was standing.

The shade of the tree stretched out, encompassing both of us with room to spare. The trunk of the tree was vast and devoid of branches for twenty feet, give or take. There was more than enough room for me to practice.

"There's not a lot for me to tell you, really," Maen said. "You need to gather the chakra on the sole of your foot in a thick enough layer that you'll stick to the tree. Too thin and you'll fall, too thick and you'll destroy the tree trunk."

Maen lifted one leg and placed his foot against the tree, leaning back so that his hold on the bark was what kept him standing.

I released my grasp on my chakra sense and peered at his foot. A layer of chakra danced around the bottom of his foot, two or three millimetres thick, a compact cluster of chakra that kept him anchored to the tree.

"Alright," I said.

"You're not going to get it the first time," he said.

"I know."

"Then have at it."

I sat down at the base of the tree and turned my attention to my feet.

Wielding chakra was like making use of any other muscle. I had the added bonus of being able to see it while I worked and thus had a heightened level of accuracy, but calling on the chakra had its challenges nonetheless. Being able to see your arm move as you did a pushup didn't mean that the pushup was any easier, but it did mean you could watch your arm as you did it, ensuring that your arm was in the correct position to maximize the effort.

That was, in essence, how my sense aided me.

I wouldn't need trial and error in the same way others would as I'd know before stepping on the tree whether or not I was going to stick.

I sat there, staring at my feet, and watched the chakra ebb and pulse around the bottom of my foot. I touched them to the trunk every so often.

There were a couple of times in which I got close to the right amount, had my feet stay in place for a couple of seconds, but then the connection would falter or my foot would come away with nothing but a chunk of bark sticking to it, and I would be back at square one. That had been expected. In a week's time, perhaps two, I would be walking up trees without any issue, I was confident in that.

I could wait.

.

.

"Three hours," Shikaku murmured, casting his eyes up to the sun. "That's a long time to be training."

"Maybe. I'm sure she's not the only one her age that trains for that long, though," Maen said. His lips itched to fall into a frown but he held them straight. "Some of the clans push their kids pretty hard."

"Fair enough," Shikaku answered. "Do you always have her going for that long?"

Maen bit back a sigh—he sensed an incoming lecture.

Kasumi's retreating back was visible to them. She had been sent off to retrieve Shikamaru and the game boards, a task that could take anywhere from five minutes to fifty minutes, depending on the prior of the two.

Maen hadn't thought much of Shikaku tasking her with that rather than going himself. That wasn't unusual, in and of itself. Shikaku had a glint in his eye, though, and was taking the conversation down a path that had one destination, causing Maen to suspect there was an ulterior motive to his action.

"Most days. Some last less, if practising with her chakra sense gives her a headache, and some go on for a bit longer if she gets stuck on something. She doesn't like to finish until she's happy with her progress."

Shikaku sighed. "Don't you think you might be pushing her a bit hard?"

Maen propped himself up into an upright position, settling his weight on his elbow. "I push her as hard as she lets me," he said. "She _likes it._ I used to have her only going three or four days a week but she wanted to start training every day. She asked me to start her on more kata, more stretching, more conditioning. If there was ever a point where she didn't want to keep going as hard she'd have no issue just telling me."

Shikaku held up his hands. "Alright, alright. Just wanted to be sure."

"Trust me, I know where her limits are," Maen said. "I won't let her burn herself out."

"You do have to admit, though, that she does push herself harder than most other kids her age."

"Spite's a powerful motivator."

Shikaku raised an eyebrow. "Spite?"

"Yeah," Maen said. "You know about Uchiha brat in her class?"

"Fugaku's spawn?"

"That's the one."

"I've heard a bit about him. Top of their class, prodigy, all of that."

"Yeah, and he's a snotty little shit," Maen said.

Shikaku smirked. "Shikamaru said as much."

"They ended up as sparring partners by the end of the first year. He's had the top physical scores in their class from the first day. Kasumi had beat the other kids, which was why Iruka started pairing the two of them up, but she was still a ways from being on his level."

"She spent the entire summer between her first and second year training," Shikaku recalled. "That was the first time I really started to notice it."

"She wouldn't say why, at first," Maen said. "She just told me that she wanted to be ready for her second year."

"But?"

"Turns out the Uchiha told her that 'cause she was female and civilian born, she'd never be able to beat him."

"You're serious."

"Completely."

"He really is a little shit," Shikaku muttered. "That's… such an Uchiha thing to say."

"Yeah. She took it better than I would have thought—I mean, she didn't just deck him then and there, which is pretty good—but it lit a fire under her ass. She wanted to prove him wrong."

"Did she end up doing that?" Shikaku asked.

"She's beaten him, but he wins more often than not."

"She doesn't want to just beat him a couple of times, then," Shikaku said. "She wants to be better than him."

"Maybe," Maen said. "I'd like to think she's moved past that and does it for the sake of training, at this point, but it's hard to say."

"She's an interesting one, alright."

Maen scratched the back of his head. He rolled onto his back, staring up at the sky.

Interesting.

Yeah, he'd go with that.

.

.

"Are you trying to box me in?"

"I dunno," I said. "Is it working?"

Shikamaru placed a piece at the edge of my formation, blocking my advance. "No."

I fell back against the grass with a groan, staring up at the sky as I sulked.

The sun had sunk below the horizon and heralded in the evening with purple skies and a chilled breeze. That was my favourite type of evening. Not cold enough to require more than a t-shirt, but not warm enough that I was uncomfortable and sweating from the heat.

It was a shame that it was being ruined by a board game.

"When somebody asks you about your strategy," Maen said from his spot a few feet away, "you not supposed to answer them."

"You say that like it matters," I grumbled. "He's gonna beat me no matter what I try."

"She has a point," Shikaku drawled. He peeked over his son's shoulder at the board. "He secured a win about three moves ago."

There was a clatter of stones as Shikamaru swiped the board clean.

"Why am I doing this?" I wondered aloud.

"You're the one who wanted to learn how to play Go," Maen said.

"I just wanted to know the rules so I'd understand what was going on when _you guys_ played—I don't give a shit about playing myself."

A Go piece arched through the air and landed smack in the middle of my forehead. I yelped, my hand rising to rub at the spot.

"No swearing," Shikaku said.

"C'mon," I whined. "Maen lets me."

"Stop spoiling her," Shikaku said, picking up another piece and tossing it at Maen with the intent to kill. Maen tipped far enough to the side that the stone sailed past him, his eyes locked on the pages in front of him. "You're creating a monster."

"She's just expanding her vocabulary," Maen answered. He moved his book down far enough that I could see the smirk on his face. "Plus, it's kinda cute."

"No, it's not," Shikaku said. "This is your fault, you should be trying to fix it."

"Why fix what isn't broken?"

"An eight-year-old shouldn't be swearing."

"I was swearing when I was eight."

"That's not good enough justification."

"It's Kiba's fault," I said. "He's the one I'm picking it up from."

Another piece nailed me in the exact same spot as the last. "Don't cover for him."

I scrambled up off the ground and threw myself behind Maen, letting him serve as my human meat-shield should Shikaku decide to launch further offensives.

"He does swear a lot," Shikamaru said. "He even says fu—"

Shikaku clapped a hand over his son's mouth before he could get the word out and groaned. "This is hopeless."

"They're just words," I said.

"They're _bad_ words," Shikaku countered. "They're impolite."

"And?"

"Right, of course," he said. "I'm talking to a brat who wouldn't know manners if they smacked her upside the head."

I poked Maen in the back. "Defend me," I hissed. "He's being mean."

"He's not wrong," Maen said.

"What? Come on!"

"Hey, I won't get after you for your bad manners, but I won't act like they don't exist."

"Traitor."

* * *

Shikamaru trudged through the doors to the Academy building beside me, his head dipped forward and his eyes half-lidded.

I poked his arm. "You're not sleep-walking, are you?" I asked.

"No."

"Good," I said. "I don't feel like having to drag you into your seat."

He grunted, a sound that could mean anything from 'okay' to 'stop talking'.

On most days the former was a safe bet. With it being the first full day back at school, though, Shikamaru was in as close as he could get to a sour mood, so it was worth at least considering the latter as well. He wasn't a morning person on the best of days but the end of summer intensified that.

We were two of the last people to get to class, the room full of chattering children that were audible halfway down the hall. Most of them ignored our arrival, save for two groups.

In the far corner of the room a group of girls—which was comprised of every girl in our class except for myself and Hinata, my lone companion in sanity—turned to look at us as we walked through the door. There was chittering, glaring, and various other shows of distaste aimed at me, none of which hit their mark.

I had noted that, in their mutual dislike for me, they had been united. The girls who had bullied Sakura ceased doing so at the end of our first year in the Academy. Ino and Sakura were still close friends, despite having both developed affections—they were _not_ romantic feelings, children _were not capable_ of developing romantic feelings—for Sasuke.

In the race for Sasuke, I had become the common enemy, despite the fact that I wasn't even attempting to compete.

I had yet to decide if that was hilarious or horrifying.

The other group to glance my way were four boys that had spent the early Academy years bullying Naruto, led by Toya, the boy whose shins I had kicked in the previous year. While I hadn't felt _good_ about beating up a little kid, it wasn't as if I had hurt him—he had a couple of bruises the next day to show for the incident but nothing more.

All I had wanted was to send a message to him and that's what I did. After that day, he and his cronies hadn't dared say a word to Naruto, nor had any other kid from our class, and that was what mattered to me. If they had to be afraid of little old me for the sake of staying off Naruto's back, that was a small price to pay.

Not that I felt _that bad_ about scaring them—they were brats, even if the fault for that was with their parents.

"Good morning, Toya," I said as we walked past, giving a small wave to him and his friends.

The four of them stiffened. Toya turned to look at me but the other three looked down at their desks rather than meet my eye.

How rude.

"Kasumi," Toya said.

Shikamaru tugged on my sleeve. "C'mon."

I turned to look at him and saw a hint of a smirk on his face even as he pulled me away.

"Fine," I said. "Ruin my fun, why don't you."

Naruto and Choji were waiting for us at the back of the room. They were sitting at the same desk, chatting with each other, but they broke apart when Shikamaru and I made it to them. Naruto took one desk while Choji got up and lumbered over to the empty table beside it, as was usual.

"Morning boys," I said, taking my seat beside Naruto.

"Hi!" Choji said.

To my right, the sound of Shikamaru collapsing into his seat was followed by a _thud_ as his forehead slammed against the table.

Naruto grinned. "Morning."

Up at the front of the room, Iruka threw the door open, walking in with a stack of papers in one hand and a red pen in the other.

"Welcome back from your summer vacation, class," he said, stopping in front of his desk. "It's time for a pop quiz."

.

.

"Kasumi."

I paused, one foot planted in the hallway on my way out to the schoolyard. "Yeah?"

"We need to talk."

"Ah, really?"

"Yes."

I waved at Naruto, Shikamaru, and Choji. "I'll meet you guys outside."

The three of them marched on without me, Naruto snickering—"Kaka's in trouble, Kaka's in trouble!"—and Choji muttering to himself—"She did it _again_!"—as they made their way outside.

There was a familiar sheet of paper sitting in front of Iruka on his desk.

"You passed this quiz by one mark," he said. "You left the rest of the questions blank."

"But I passed."

He exhaled, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Yes, but you and I both know you could have done _far better_ on this quiz if you bothered to try harder."

"It's the first quiz of the year—you never take the marks from them."

"And if I started to do that today?"

I shrugged. "Oh, well."

"How am I supposed to know where your academic level is when you won't show it to me?" he asked. "That's what these are for, you know. I take the marks from them and use them to find out where the class needs improvement."

"Then just ignore mine," I said. "I don't pay attention in class anyways."

"Which is the problem! You could be the top girl in your year if you applied yourself academically."

"You've got way too much faith in me, Iruka ."

"I don't," he said. "Your intelligence is high enough that you could beat out Sakura, I know that."

I frowned, crossing my arms over my chest. "How come you're only getting after me?" I asked. "Shika is _worse_ than I am, but you don't go hounding him."

" _Shikamaru_ isn't somebody I can motivate, but you are. You apply yourself in your physical work, your taijutsu and your weapon throwing. But in class, you read your own books instead of the assigned work and doodle—"

"I don't _doodle_ ," I cut in, my fingers tightening around the sketch pad I had clutched in my hand, my mind bringing up the image of the updated portrait of mama I had worked on rather than complete my quiz, "I _draw_."

He blinked, his jaw rising to shut his open mouth, the rest of his words lost. A beat of silence passed.

"Right. You—you sit and _draw_ instead of listening when I'm teaching or doing your class assignments."

"I still pass everything."

"You're capable of doing more than pass! That's—that's what I've been trying to _say_."

"But unless I fail, there's nothing you can do."

"You'll fall behind if you don't keep up with the basic foundations."

"No, I won't."

He stared at me.

Aside from the fact that I had retained some level of my basic academic knowledge from my last life, stored with all of the other bits of semantic memory that had been passed on along with my soul, there was little being taught to us at this point that couldn't be picked up at a later date in a weekend of studying.

Multiplication, division. The basic history— _propaganda_ , really—of Konoha. The systems of the body. What will kill you if you eat it out in the wilderness. How to pitch a tent and _not_ make a disaster of the environment around you while doing so.

If I ever found myself in need of that information I had access to the Nara library through Maen and the Konoha's shinobi library. There wouldn't be any issue in my getting to it.

There was no reason for me to bother with doing all of it now.

Iruka hadn't said it, but that was the same reason why Shikamaru, and other Nara in general, didn't get ragged on for attaining poor grades in the Academy, assuming that they at least passed. Due to their vast intelligence and the resources they had available to them, it was expected that a Nara would pick up what knowledge they needed down the road.

All of that said, I could have literally scored a zero on every test except for the final ones issued at the end of every semester and still be allowed to progress to the next year.

The grades we received in the physical aspects of class were deemed equal to our academic ones, as knowledge and physical abilities were of equal worth to a shinobi. The grades I received in our physical testing were high enough that, should I want to, I could get a bare pass on my final tests and skate through the Academy without issue.

"I see," Iruka answered. He leant back in his chair, watching me. "You really believe that?"

"Yeah."

He took a deep breath and let it out in one whooshing exhale. "Alright, Kasumi. You can go."

I turned and left without a word.

.

.

"Hey, hey, Kaka! So, did Iruka get mad at ya?"

"Nah."

"Eh, really? That's so _boring_."

"It's a _good thing_ , it means she's not in trouble!"

"Yeah, but it's still _boring_. I wanted to hear Iruka yell at her or something."

"You're only saying that because you want him to yell at somebody other than you for once."

"What? Nu-uh!"

"I agree with him—you're just bitter."

* * *

I sat on the couch in the living room, my chakra sense wide open and tears burning in my eyes.

Signatures were flying around the village at a mile a minute, high-level signatures at that, one of which belonged to Maen and another to Shikaku. The spot in the village which I had, over time, managed to label as belonging to the Uchiha compound, sat devoid of any chakra activity save for three or four signatures buzzing around which didn't hold the static that was typical of an Uchiha's chakra signature.

After a minute or two I located a familiar signature in the hospital. The movement of the chakra was subdued, slow and dull, compared to its typical lively nature. It was the only signature left that had the Uchiha static.

I lasted an hour before the dull ache in my head progressed to a roar and I was forced to close off my sense. As soon as the pain subsided, though, I had them open again, a grim curiosity making it impossible for me to keep myself from observing the village in its state of panic.

Maen returned at three in the morning and found me sitting in the living room, a hand over my mouth, my cheeks flushed and damp.

He walked through the threshold, decked out in full shinobi attire. He gave me a bewildered look when he spotted me there—I hadn't moved the entire time he was gone.

"Kiddo, what—"

"They're gone," I mumbled, the words muffled as they slipped through my fingers. "I can't—I can't feel them, _they're just gone_."

Recognition flashed across his features, followed by horror. In a second he was on the couch beside me, holding me in his lap, carding his fingers through my hair and murmuring nonsense in that calming voice of his.

Neither of us got any sleep that night.

* * *

Sasuke didn't come back to school for two weeks.

Had I not felt the aftermath of the Uchiha massacre for myself, his absence would have been enough to tip me off.

As it was, once he returned he was—understandably—changed. His default mode was to sit in silence and glare at anybody who looked his way or came within five feet of him. What few words he did speak were clipped, voiced in a tone far colder than any child should be capable of using.

The worst part was how this new attitude was worshipped by the girls in our class.

Some of the blame belonged to those around them who didn't bother correcting their attitudes. I doubted any of the girls grasped the gravity of the situation, the full extent of the horror that was the Uchiha massacre. They couldn't begin to guess at what type of damage they were doing to the psyche of an eight-year-old Sasuke Uchiha.

"Alright," Iruka said to our class as we gathered in the training grounds. "Pair off and get started on your spars. Remember to have good, clean fights, okay?"

Sasuke stood off in the far part of the group of students. Ino and another girl, who I believed to be her sparring partner, were hovering near him, giggling to each other and throwing glances at the back of his head.

I made my way over to where he was.

"Good luck, Sasuke," Ino said.

"Yeah! I know you can do it, Sasuke!" the other girl cried. "You're way better than _her_."

Sasuke gave them as much attention as I did, which was none at all.

I placed myself across from him without uttering a word and held my hand out in the seal of confrontation. He mirrored the action.

My hand fell at my side and I pulled myself into the defensive position that Maen had taught me, rather than the one that the Academy trained us to use. Despite his calm exterior, I could sense a storm of anger and grief churning in Sasuke, the writhing and frothing of his chakra betraying him, clear to my sense even without having them open.

He flew at me with nowhere near the level of control he had shown in the past.

He launched a reckless offensive that I danced around, knowing better than to try and compete with him in a battle of brawn. If I engaged in a slug-match he'd win. Instead, I waited him out, moving around his punches and kicks with practised ease.

When he overextended with a loose punch aimed at my face, one of the places we weren't supposed to be targeting anyways, I grabbed his wrist and pivoted, tossing him over my shoulder like a sack of potatoes with a sharp yank. He landed on his back and stared up at me, his chest heaving.

I took a step back and extended a hand down to him.

Ten seconds ticked by; I didn't move an inch.

He reached up and wrapped his fingers around my wrist. He let me pull him to his feet, though the second he gained his footing he dropped my hand and backed away. I formed the seal of reconciliation and Sasuke did the same.

Giving a small nod, more to myself than him, I turned my head to the side and frowned at the two girls who had watched us fight rather than participate in their own sparring match.

"Don't you two have something to do?" I asked, not blunting my tone or my words.

The girl let out an 'eep' and skittered away but Ino stared me down. At least _one of them_ had a backbone.

Rather than cower, Ino gave a haughty sniff and turned her nose up at me. With a flick of her hair, she turned and followed the other girl, taking up their positions in their own sparring square.

* * *

"Do you think it could be her hair?"

"Oh, maybe! I heard Sasuke likes long hair and hers is really long."

"She never wears it down, though. I think he only likes girls with long hair who actually wear it long, she just keeps it in a messy braid most of the time."

"I guess you're right."

"What about how thin she is?"

"She's got like... weird muscles, though. Mama said women should be delicate and thin, not muscled like brutes."

"I bet it's her accent. It's kind of, like, exotic, right?"

I slammed my book shut and stood, stalking towards the group of girls that sat mere feet away, gathered together and gossiping as they picked at their near non-existent lunches.

One would expect that, in a society that puts such emphasis on manners and politeness, somebody would have taught them how to show some level of tact and restraint when talking about another person who was within earshot of them. Nobody had. They weren't even _trying_ to be quiet.

I planted my hands down on the table and they grew silent. Ino, of course, didn't bat an eye at me while the rest of the girls, Sakura included, inched away from me.

"You're all being stupid," I declared.

"Eh?"

"What do you mean, stupid?"

"You're just trying to get in our way, that's it!"

"I'm not trying to get in your way," I said. "I'd have to actually like Sasuke to do that."

"You _don't_ like him?" one of them asked, her eyebrows furrowing together and her lips puckering.

"Not at all," I said. "We're not even really friends—we're just sparring partners."

"But—but he actually _talks_ to you!" Sakura said.

"Well," I said, "he kind of does."

He spoke to me more than most other people but that wasn't saying much.

Sasuke tolerated me. He didn't _like_ me, nor did he go out of his way to talk to me, but if I asked him a question related to training I could at least expect a monosyllable response rather than silence and a glare.

That was fine with me as I had no desire to talk to him about anything other than training.

"Why does he talk to _you_ ," Ino asked, pointing at me, "instead of any of _us_?"

"Yeah, what makes you so special?"

"Probably because I'm _not_ you," I offered.

"Huh?"

"You all act like he's some kind of Kami," I said. "It's creepy."

"We're showing our devotion!" a girl cried with a huff.

"No, you're being creepy," I repeated. "You giggle anytime he's within ten feet of you and stare at him for _way_ longer than what's socially acceptable."

"Fine," Ino snapped. "What _should_ we do, then, if you're so smart?"

"Stop trying to impress him with your appearances and start trying to impress him with your abilities," I said. "You're all so busy wondering what about my appearances Sasuke could like that you're completely missing the point—unlike any of you, I can take him in a fight."

I received a multitude of blank stares in response.

Ino was the first one to snap out of it. "So we need to get stronger, not prettier," she said, her nose scrunching up as the words left her mouth.

"Well, that, and just… stop being so creepy all the time."

"Hmph."

"How do we know you're not just trying to trick us?" Sakura asked, her eyes narrowed. "You might just be trying to get Sasuke all to yourself!"

A shudder ran through my body at the thought— _gross_.

I was a lot of things, but a pedophile was not one of them.

"I have absolutely _zero_ interest in Sasuke," I said.

I turned on my heel and walked away, preventing them from throwing more questions my way. As soon as my back was turned they broke out into a mess of chatter, three or four conversations going on at once around the table, the words incomprehensible to me.

I hoped that at least a couple of the conversations were revolving around training.

They were young and wrapped up in the warm embrace of childhood. They didn't yet realize the weight of their decision to attend the Academy, the grim future that they had set out for themselves, inching towards them, growing closer with each passing day. It would be a couple of years until that set in. For some of them, it would take longer, those who wouldn't understand the reality of their lives until they were holding a bloody kunai in their hands for the first time.

I had the foresight to know that I needed to take my training seriously, a luxury that none of them possessed. The few of them who had shinobi parents, or belonged to shinobi clans, would at least have somebody pushing them along through their training regardless—that couldn't be said for the children who had civilian parents, the girls especially.

Not all of the girls would listen to me. Some would ignore what I had said and go on trying to woo Sasuke with hairdos and makeup. Others would take my words to heart for a little while, try to improve themselves, but give up once they saw no results with Sasuke or found the task too onerous.

If, at the end of the day, I spurred on one or two them who managed to stick it out until the end, no matter what their reason for doing it, I would be satisfied.

The chance that Sasuke might spend less time getting ogled at was an added bonus.


	12. Academy: Part 5

_._

* * *

 _"And in that moment I swore that_

 _nothing in this universe could be as heavy as the_

 _absence of the person you love."_

* * *

"Excuse me."

The boy paused in his exercise, his hand halting mid-strike and falling to his side.

He turned to me. There was a sheen of sweat that glistened on his brow and stuck his hair flat against his forehead; I could smell the perspiration from where I was standing a few feet away. He was breathing heavy, his chest heaving. The muscles in his arms twitched and jumped beneath the fabric around them.

"Hello!" the boy shouted. Despite having spent two hours straight training with a minimal amount of breaks—I had kept tabs on him through my chakra sense, I hadn't sat in a tree and spied on him like a creep—his voice was strong and clear, booming out around the otherwise empty training ground. "What can I do for you, my Beautiful Spring Flower of Youth?"

I steeled my resolve.

There was no turning back. There was no bowing out.

Graduation was four months away. In four months, I would be thrown onto a team and into the ninja world. I had to be ready for that day, no matter what. If that meant subjecting my body to sadistic and cruel levels of training, then so be it.

"I was wondering if I could train with you."

His face lit up. "Truly?" he cried. I nodded. His hand jut out in a thumbs-up, his right eye winked, and he gave me a blinding grin. There was no other reaction I could muster except to stare. "Why, I would be honoured! I am Rock Lee. Who would you be?"

"Kasumi Kurosawa," I answered. "It's nice to meet you, Lee."

"The pleasure is all mine, Kurosawa-san—"

"Ah, just call me Kasumi. No need to be so formal."

He entire upper body jerked forward at the waist in the most zealous bow I had ever witnessed. "My sincerest apologies, Kasumi!"

I stifled a laugh—there was something almost endearing about his enthusiasm. Perhaps spending so long around Naruto, in all his ebullient glory, had reconditioned my brain so that I wasn't off-put by eccentrics. That, or I had lost my sanity and my ability to be weirded-out had gone right along with it.

Given what I was in the midst of doing, that too was a valid possibility.

"It's fine," I said. "Don't worry about it."

He straightened. "Yosh! Let us get started, then! Are you warmed up?"

"Not really."

"A light jog is in order!" he exclaimed. "We shall run twenty laps around Konoha!"

I choked on air. "Twenty laps? That's a warmup?"

"Indeed! That is half of what I do, I believe it will be sufficient for you!" He blinked. "You are of the Academy age, correct?"

"I'm twelve," I said. "I'll be graduating in June."

"Perfect! This is what Gai had me doing when I graduated, I know you can do it! I believe in you!"

I sucked in a deep breath.

That was what I had wanted, after all. A step up in my training. Either I was going to regret doing it with every fibre of my being or it would be the best choice of my ninja career.

"Alright. Let's go."

.

.

The house was empty when I stumbled through the door, my arrival met by silence.

I tugged the door shut behind me and tossed off my shoes, not worrying about how the motion sent them askew, far from where they were supposed to sit on the mat. I stared down at my slippers and contemplated wearing them. I decided against it when I caught a whiff of my own feet. There was a layer of sweat _everywhere_ , my feet included, and I had no desire to dirty my slippers.

My body moved on autopilot through the house. First stop was the shower, where I stood under the hot water for Kami knows how long as the sweat and grime were cleansed from my skin. Then came the kitchen, where I nabbed some of the leftovers that Yoshino had dropped off the day prior, as she didn't trust me to cook my own meals—which was fair when one looked at my less-than-stellar track record in the kitchen. With both of those accomplished, I padded into Maen's room, slipped one of his shirts over my head, and collapsed on his bed, its sheets still mussed from the night before.

The familiar scent enveloped me, providing me with a sense of comfort.

My hand reached up to his bedside table and my fingers met the rough texture of crinkled paper. I grabbed at it and held the page in front of my face, running my fingers over the letters that were scribbled along the middle of it, following the path that my eyes took as I read it over again.

 _"Sorry kiddo, but my mission's been extended, might be another few weeks. Please don't do anything stupid while I'm gone."_

I sighed and set the letter aside, ignoring the way my chest constricted.

My eyes shifted, landing on the calendar that hung on his wall—it was two months behind schedule. I rolled onto my back, laying spread eagle on the mattress, and let my mind focus on the ache in my bones rather than the tears that leaked down my cheeks.

* * *

"Weights?"

Lee dropped them in front of me, unfazed by the cloud of dust that they kicked up when they landed. "Yosh!"

I blinked, forcing my jaw to stay shut even as it itched to fall open. "How—how _heavy_ are those?"

"I am uncertain," Lee answered, scratching the back of his head with a sheepish grin. "I believe they are about fifteen pounds."

"Fifteen— _no._ Lee, after the last time I trained with you, I could _barely walk_ the next day. Adding that much weight to it might actually kill me."

Which, while it may sound dramatic, the fear wasn't without merit as the heat of the mid-afternoon sun pounded down on us. It was a warmer spring day than usual. Training in the heat and training with Lee were both hazardous to my health—to add weights into the equation would force me to limit my training session for the sake of avoiding heat stroke.

I enjoyed pushing my body to its physical limit, that much was true, but I wasn't suicidal and I understood where the line had to be drawn.

Most of the time, at least.

"Nonsense! These are what Gai gave me during my first weeks of training with him, I am certain they will function very well for your training!"

"I'm also female and probably a good thirty pounds lighter than you would have been," I pointed out.

He seemed to deflate, his shoulders wilting and his grin fading away. "Ah, you are correct, my Sweet Flower!" he cried. His head shot forward as he bowed to me. "I should have thought about that! I am terribly sorry! As penance, I shall run around Konoha a hundred times—on my hands!"

The image of a thirteen-year-old boy, upside down, clad in a green jumpsuit, screaming at the top of his lungs as he sprinted—can one sprint on their hands?—around the perimeter of Konoha popped into my mind against my will.

Oh, _no._

"That… that's alright. It's fine, don't worry about it."

"Are you certain? I must—"

"Seriously, Lee. It's okay. You can keep your weights, too, I'll pick some up for myself by next week."

He was beaming at me once again. "That is very kind of you! I would encourage you, however, to take the weights back with you, and to wear them during your everyday life until you get your own. You can return them to me when we meet next week!"

I shook my head. "They're too heavy for me. Really, I'll get my own as soon as possible."

Weights that were worn at all times had to be light enough that they were near unnoticeable. They weren't meant to be a hindrance to you, but to condition your body over time, increased in increments as your muscles strengthened. Lee and, by extension, Gai, had thrown that idea out the window by wearing fifteen-pound weights on each of limbs right out the gate.

I didn't intend to do the same.

"If you are certain," he said. He picked up the weights, chucked them off to the side as if they were lighter than air, and struck a pose, his legs forming a v-shape and his shoulders squaring and his hands landing on his hips. "Now then! Let the training commence!"

In a flash, Lee had dashed off in the other direction. _Shit_. I followed, forcing my legs into a dead sprint and hoping in the back of my mind that I'd manage to keep my lunch down.

* * *

Maen gazed at the lump in his bed, one hand still running a towel through his damp hair.

She was curled up in the fetal position on his pillow, her hands clamped around the fabric of a shirt— _his_ shirt—that swallowed up her entire body. He had assumed that she was at his cousin's house when he found her room empty. Instead, there she was, sleeping in his bed and clutching one of his shirts like it was a lifeline.

There were few times when Maen regretted his choice of work—that moment happened to be one of them.

He had known that his being absent affected her. He had known she missed him when he was gone, a sentiment that went both ways.

What he _hadn't_ known was how deep those feelings went.

He felt a stab of guilt, made sharper by the fact that he knew it wouldn't stop him from taking missions in the future. That was part of the sacrifice that came with being a ninja. It had to come first. He was young and in his prime years, if there was ever a time for him to slow down on his mission intake, it wasn't then, not when he was of most use to his village.

He leant his shoulder against the doorframe, his hands falling to his sides, his eyes locked on her.

He didn't even want to imagine how much more it would sting once she began taking missions herself, their incongruous schedules further increasing the amount of time they would spend apart.

Maen discarded the towel and pulled some clothes from his closet, a tank-top and shorts. The room was pitch black, with only a hint of light leaking in from the hallway, but he had no issue navigating around as he finished getting ready to settle in for the night.

He slid into the bed, easing himself down beside her and pulling the covers up so that they sat around her shoulders. He thought he had managed to do so without waking her up when a pair of violet eyes blinked at him, half-opened, sleepy and unfocused.

"Maen?"

He put his arms around her back, lifting a hand to run his fingers through her hair, one of the few things that never failed to relax her. "Go back to sleep," he murmured.

She pushed her weight into him and pressed her face against his chest, both of her hands coming up to latch onto his shirt.

"Missed you," she mumbled.

He let his chin rest atop her head. "I missed you too, kiddo."

She hummed. "Night."

He listened as her breathing evened out, her entire body going limp in his hold.

He _would_ make it up to her, somehow.

* * *

I clutched at Maen's hand with both of my own as we walked through the village.

It was busy, with hordes of people, civilians and ninja alike, milling around the market centre of Konoha and relishing in the agreeable weather. The sounds of a hundred different conversations drifted to my ears, the feel of a hundred different chakra signatures glancing against my sense.

"What inspired weights?" Maen asked. "You said you wanted them later on, what made you change your mind?"

I looked up at him and shrugged. "I started training with someone who suggested I try them."

He made a face, the lines around his mouth turning downward. "It's not that Uchiha brat, is it?"

"Not a chance," I scoffed. "It's some kid I met at the training grounds, he's a year older than me. He and his sensei specialise in taijutsu."

"Oh, yeah?"

"Uh-huh. He's kinda weird—he wears this green jumpsuit, and he says the word 'youthful' a lot. He's nice, though."

I watched Maen's reaction out of the corner of my eye.

He stiffened, his step faltering for a second, his eyes widening. I bit back a grin.

"That's… that's interesting."

"Something wrong?"

"No, no," he said, his composure back in place. He cleared his throat. "How's that going?"

"It's fine. His training is really intense, but I think it'll help."

"What does he have you doing?"

"A lot of what I was doing already, but just… harder. One-handed push ups with weight on my back, making me run backwards, weird sideways sit ups. All of that in crazy amounts. He sparred with me a bit, too, but he went easy on me."

Maen's eyes flashed across my body. "How long has that been going on?"

"A couple of weeks," I said. "I'm supposed to meet him again tomorrow."

"You'd think a genin wouldn't have any interest in training with an Academy student," he said.

"He said something about 'helping to foster the Youth of Konoha like his Great Sensei does'. Like I said, he's nice, but a bit… odd."

"You wouldn't say that if you met his sensei," Maen muttered.

"You know his sensei?"

"The entire ninja population of Konoha knows his sensei."

I snorted. "That bad?"

"The guy's colourful, alright, but he's also a genius," Maen said. "He's one of the top ninja in Konoha."

A shop sign, with bright red lettering and a cartoon kunai sketched out underneath it, caught my attention. I managed to get a glimpse at the windows through the crowd, displaying various forms of ninja gear, from kunai to senbon, katana to tanto, and mannequins outfitted with ninja clothes. I tugged on Maen's hand and pointed to it.

"Hey, isn't that where you said we were going?"

He turned to look where I was gesturing to, squinting, and nodded. "Looks like it."

He led me through the crowd towards the shop door.

The bell dinged as Maen pushed the door open, garnering the attention of the shopkeeper who had been organizing inventory in the back. A stout man, he put down a box of kunai and hobbled over to where we were, the steady thunk of wood hitting wood intermingled with a lone footstep, a broad grin on his face.

"Nara-san," the man said. "A pleasure, as always."

"Been a while, Fujita-san." Maen gave me a push between the shoulders. "This is Kasumi."

The man bent down to greet me, crouching and setting his hands on his knees. The gesture felt both kind and condescending—which made sense given that, in his mind, he was approaching a twelve-year-old.

"It's nice to meet you, Kasumi."

"You as well, Fujita-san."

"We're looking for training weights," Maen said, setting a hand on my shoulder.

Fujita nodded and made his way towards the back part of the store, calling over his shoulder, "Normal or sealed?"

Maen turned back to me. "You're looking to use them all of the time, right?"

"Yeah," I answered.

"Sealed," Maen told him.

"Come on back, I should have some that fit."

Maen moved towards the source of the voice, tugging me along with him as I had yet to let go of his hand. I let him guide me, marvelling at the weaponry and gear instead of watching where I was going, not caring if I was drooling at the lovely sharp things that lined the walls.

Fujita had two sets of weights that he was considering, one in each hand, humming to himself as he hefted them. They didn't _look_ like weights. They were made of a thin black material, resembling an armband more than a weight. The thing that gave it away was the white seals stitched into them, the same design on all of the articles.

He saw us and tossed a set my way. I caught them—they didn't _feel_ like weights any more than they looked it. They could be slipped under my regular clothes and nobody except me would ever know they were there.

"They should be snug," Fujita said.

I pulled on the armband and held out my wrist. A bit of slack showed itself, the fabric sagging downward. Fujita clicked his tongue. He held out the other set and swapped it for the one I had, the fit of the second set being far superior to the first.

Maen went to pay for them while I wandered the store.

I had considered finding a weapon to augment my taijutsu but realised there wasn't any point until I had my jonin. Whichever weapon I chose, should I pick one up at all, had to be one in which there was a teacher available who was well-versed with it.

I brushed my fingers on a set of tessen, a wicked pair of fans made entirely of blades rather than fabric, when I saw a shine of silver in the corner of my eye.

"Rings?" I murmured aloud, meandering over towards it.

It was a group of four rings and two bracelets, formed out of thick, polished steel, sitting in a box on the corner of a counter. They were plain, save for the intricate seal that was carved into each of them.

"Those are rather curious, aren't they?"

"What are they?" I asked.

Fujita reached over my shoulder and pulled out one of the rings.

He slipped it over his finger and clenched his hand into a fist, releasing a burst of concentrated chakra around the area of the ring. A thin line of chain slinked out from where the seal was on the ring and wound its way towards me—I could sense a hint of chakra leaking off of the chain.

"There're fifteen metres of reinforced steel chain sealed into each of the rings, twenty metres sealed into the bracelets," he said. "You use a skiff of chakra to active them and control the chains."

"That's… that's _so fucking cool_."

Maen walked over, a plastic bag in hand and an eyebrow raised. "What's cool?"

"Look!" I cried.

"She found these little beauties," Fujita answered, the chain still writhing in the air in front of him. "Some of my best seal work, if I do say so myself."

Maen sighed. "You want them, don't you?"

I gave him a grin, no doubt starry-eyed. "Maybe."

He rolled his eyes. "At least make sure you can use them, first."

"Don't be too disappointed if you can't," Fujita warned. "They require incredibly precise chakra control. Most people below chunin can't properly activate them."

"I wouldn't count her out just yet," Maen muttered. "She'll surprise you."

I grabbed at one of the rings and put it on my middle finger. I let my chakra sense open up to give myself a better idea of what was happening when I channelled my chakra into the area of the ring, watching as it created something akin to a pathway where the seal was.

Once the path was open and the first link of the chain peeked out of the ring, I understood what he meant. My control over it was tenuous, a layer of my chakra coating the chain as it exited from the seal, but the further out the chain went the more difficult it was to hold onto it. A metres worth of chain was extended when my control gave out and cut off the chakra that was being supplied to the seal. The chain was swept back up into the ring like a vacuum.

"Well, not bad for a first try," Fujita said and clapped me on the shoulder. "That's far better than what most get. Practice makes perfect with these, trust me."

"How much are they?" Maen asked, heaving a sigh.

He had resigned himself to his fate.

Fujita waved a hand. "Don't worry, I've got no intention of burning a hole in your pocket—you've already purchased the weights, I'll give you a good deal on 'em."

I let out a squeal and threw myself at his mid-section. "Thank you, thank you, thank you!"

He snorted, placing a hand on my head. "Yeah, yeah. You're welcome, you little monster."

"I'm _your_ little monster."

"I guess you are."


	13. Graduation: Part 1

_._

* * *

 _Individually we are one drop,_

 _but together we are an ocean._

* * *

Iruka let out a breath, collected his thoughts, and knocked his knuckles against the aged wood; the sound echoed through the hallway outside of the office.

Somebody shuffled papers and cleared their throat beyond the door. "Come in."

He hesitated for a second before he pushed the door open and walked through the threshold, dipping down in a low bow as his feet landed in front of the desk. "Lord Hokage."

"Iruka," Hiruzen said, the start of a frown pulling at his features. "Is something the matter?"

"It's about the team placements."

"Oh?" Hiruzen reclined against his chair. "There is no need to rush this, Iruka. In light of the events that transpired earlier this evening, it would be understandable if you and the other chunin took another day to reorganise the teams—and if you went home to rest."

Iruka flushed, forcing his eyes to stay up instead of dropping down to his feet. "Your concern is appreciated, Lord Hokage, but I'm fine. The medics did their job well. The teams have all been re-organized, as well."

"Then what is the issue?"

"It—It's about Team 7."

Hiruzen extended his hand and Iruka gave him the sheet of paper which contained all of the different team placements. His eyes scanned the page and he let out a hum when his pupils halted their movements.

"Naruto Uzumaki, Sasuke Uchiha, and Sakura Haruno," Hiruzen said. "Sasuke is Rookie of the Year, Sakura is top kunoichi, and Naruto is at the bottom of his class. It is a standard team. On paper, they have the potential to be our top performing genin team."

"Yes, but… but I don't think Sakura Haruno is the correct choice for that team."

Hiruzen picked up his pipe and gave it a puff, expression neutral. "It is a tradition that they are placed together," he said, bits of smoke drifting out from between his lips as he spoke. It wasn't intended as an argument against him, Iruka noted, but as a statement of fact. "It has been that way for many generations."

"I know it has. On paper they'll balance each other out perfectly, yes, but in reality, they won't function well as a team. Sakura doesn't get along with Naruto at all, and while she does quite like Sasuke, he—ah, doesn't feel the same. Sakura will spend all of her time attempting to work with and protect Sasuke, but none with Naruto. In the same vein, Sasuke won't be willing to work with her while Naruto will only want to work with her. Kasumi, however, gets along with Naruto and will be capable of working with Sasuke. She won't have that issue at all, and neither will the boys; she can balance them out."

"Personalities clashing is not unheard of with this team," Hiruzen reminded him. "Look at the Sannin. They fought like cats and dogs for their entire time as a team and yet they are one of, if not the most, powerful team this village has ever produced."

"They are," Iruka agreed, "but this is different." He took in a breath. "Kasumi Kurosawa should have been the one to take the spot as top kunoichi."

"Yet," Hiruzen said, inclining his head, "she didn't."

Iruka didn't want to take an opportunity away from Sakura, he _really didn't_ , but he didn't think that being placed on Team 7, being forced to compete with Naruto and Sasuke for attention, would benefit her. Naruto was the village jinchuriki and had the potential to be an absolute powerhouse. Sasuke was the last Uchiha, with a potent dojutsu and ninjutsu capabilities that could put some chunin to shame. Sakura was a civilian girl with brains and chakra control that went above average and passable everything else; she wasn't exceptional in the way that her two teammates were.

He knew that she had potential. If her skills were nurtured, if she was given the chance, Sakura could become a formidable kunoichi.

Iruka was certain that on Team 7 she wouldn't be given a fair chance. Placing her on Team 7 would be a waste and Iruka refused to allow one of his students to be done such a disservice.

Kasumi, on the other hand, would have no issue holding her own on a team with Naruto and Sasuke. She was stubborn and determined to stand out in a way that Sakura wasn't, she had a drive to _fight_ that Sakura lacked, things which may have made it difficult for her to function with other teams, but would be essential for her on Team 7.

"Kasumi didn't get that spot because I failed in my job as her sensei."

"Oh?"

"If both girls had equal motivation, Kasumi would have been the one to take the spot as top kunoichi. Her low academic scores were a result of low motivation, not low intelligence—she would do half of her tests, enough to pass, and then just _stop_ because she didn't want to finish them."

The tips of Hiruzen's lips twitched upward, a smile flashing across his face. It was brief, a blip on his face, and Iruka wondered if he imagined it. "I see."

"It's different with Sakura," Iruka continued. "Her low physical scores are beyond my control. To improve those, she would require special attention that I can't give her, the type of thing only a jonin can do. I did everything I could for Sakura. Kasumi, though, I… I feel like— _no_ , I _know_ that I could have done more for her. I could have pushed harder than I did."

Hiruzen nodded, pulling his pipe from between his lips and setting it down on the desk in front of him. "I can see you have given this a lot of thought," he observed. "You truly believe this?"

"I do, Lord Hokage," Iruka said.

"Then I will take your word for it."

* * *

I was in a daze when I walked through the front door. I tossed my shoes onto the mat and made it five steps into the house when I remembered to call, "Tadaima."

"Okaeri," came the reply, mingled with the steady draw of metal grinding against stone.

My feet carried me towards the noise, to where Maen sat on the living room couch, the radio droning on in the background as he sharpened the blades of his kunai with idle movements. He had a mass of equipment scattered around him and an empty pack sitting at his feet.

"Mission?" I asked, my mouth turning down in a frown. "You've only been back for a week."

"Yeah. Something came up and Lord Hokage needs to send me out, I'll be leaving tomorrow morning."

"Oh."

"It should be a shorter mission, a couple of weeks at most," he said.

"'Should be'?"

"That's the projected timeframe," he said. "I doubt it'll go over, but anything can happen."

"Yeah."

I threw myself onto the couch beside him and sank into the cushions, dropping my bag onto the floor in front of the couch. Maen paused in his task, setting his kunai and stone on the table amidst the rest of his supplies, one of his hands coming to rest on my head and tilting it back to meet his gaze.

"Any reason in particular that you're not telling me about your team placement?" he asked.

I went with the safe answer of: "My sensei's an ass."

"And who's your sensei?"

"Kakashi Hatake."

A flicker of surprise, a flicker of annoyance. "Ah."

"I'm guessing you know him?"

"Yeah," he said and pulled his hand back. "Who're your teammates?"

"Naruto and Sasuke."

"Huh. Yeah, alright—I see why you're mopey."

I groaned. "You're supposed to make me feel better about this."

 _Make me feel better about getting placed on the most dangerous team I could have._

 _Make me feel better about throwing the fate of this universe into question._

It wasn't fair; I _shouldn't_ have been on that team. Sakura had gotten the title of top kunoichi, not me, it was _her_ role to inhabit, not mine. Never mine. I hadn't gone out of my way to avoid being on Team 7, but I hadn't gone out of my way to be placed on it, either. Who would? Seriously, _who would_?

A mission that would pit me against an S-rank ninja not just once, but twice? No thanks.

An encounter with an even more dangerous S-rank ninja that could stomp me into the dirt with his pinky toe? I'll pass.

I was content to be friends with the various main players, to give them minor pushes here and there, to help them if I could, but I had zero desire to get caught up in the mess that was bound to unfold past what would be strictly necessary of me. Minor involvement was a guarantee, no matter what, as I was a ninja of Konoha and I had a duty to uphold, one that I had no qualms performing.

That was fine. That I could handle.

At the end of the day, though, I just wanted to _live_.

As much as I wanted to help my village and those I cared about, as much as I wanted to give this world a better future, _I wanted to be alive to see it_.

A finger tapped on my forehead, snapping me from my thoughts. "Hey, kiddo—you feelin' alright?" he asked. "You're zoning out."

"More than usual?" I asked, my voice no louder than a mumble.

His frown deepened. "What's wrong?"

 _Pretty much everything._ "Nothing."

"Are you getting sick?" His palm smoothed out over my forehead. "You're a bit warm."

 _I'm not sick, I'm terrified._ "Maybe. I think I'm going to go take a nap, or something—I have to be up early tomorrow for my jonin-test."

I pushed myself up, reaching a hand down to catch the hook of my bag as I did so, and headed to my room, the sensation of eyes on the back of my head trailing me the whole way.

Some time to think on my own was what I needed, time to plan, to figure out how I was going to deal with that new development.

* * *

"Your assignment is very simple. You just have to take these bells from me, that's all there is to it. If you can't get them by noon, you go without lunch. You'll be tied to those posts over there and you'll get to watch me while I eat my lunch."

I stood, one hand on my cocked hip while the other hung at my side, my face impassive as I watched Kakashi dangle the bells in front of us.

Naruto and Sasuke had placed themselves on either side of me. Their expressions were teetering on either side of the spectrum, Naruto radiating a red-hot anger whilst Sasuke shot Kakashi a look so cold that it could have frozen hell over. Kakashi was nonplussed—in fact, I was certain that he was getting a kick out of how little effort he had to exert in order to rile the two of them up.

"Eh? But, hey—wait! There're two bells, but three of us," Naruto shouted.

"Terribly astute of you," Kakashi answered, his eye crinkling up in an eye-smile that had to be fake. "That's because only two of you will pass. One of you will not receive a bell, you will be disqualified for failing to complete the mission, and then you will be sent back to the Academy. Though, really, all three of you could fail out if you aren't careful."

Naruto cried out in outrage and Sasuke released a watered down form of what I assumed was killer-intent.

That neither of them picked up on the lie was almost as annoying as the fact that the lie existed in the first place. It was _obvious_ when one took all of a few seconds to think about how many two-man genin teams they had seen around the village and realised the answer was _zero_. Kakashi kicking one of us off and keeping the other two was a logical impossibility.

"What do we do?" Sasuke asked, hands shoved in his pockets and eyes trained on Kakashi.

"You will come at me with the intent to kill me," Kakashi answered. "If you aren't ready to do that, you won't be able to take the bell. You can use any weapons, including shuriken and kunai."

"If you couldn't dodge my eraser then I don't see how you can dodge _those_ ," Naruto scoffed.

 _Ignorance is bliss, huh?_

"Keep that attitude up," Kakashi told him, reaching down to link the bells up to the pouch on his hip. "You're just making my life easier by not coming at me with everything you have, like the class clown that you are—those are usually the weakest links, you know, and hold the lowest scores. The losers of the ninja world."

I caught sight of the smirk that spread across Sasuke's lips. "Class clowns may not always pull the highest academic skills but they do have other important traits that ninja require," I said. "They learn to think outside the box from coming up with their pranks, and pick up good stealth abilities from putting those pranks into action."

Naruto laughed, grinning from ear to ear. "Yeah! What she said!"

Kakashi shifted his gaze to stare at me, managing to give off a distinct sense of being unimpressed with the outburst despite the fact that more than half of his face was covered by cloth. He watched me, his hands in his pockets, his shoulders slouched and held in a loose manner, and it felt as if he mentally took me apart and put me back together again in the second that ticked past.

"You can begin when I say 'start'," Kakashi said, ignoring the fact that I had spoken. He turned on his heel and walked a few feet away, leaving his back turned to us, taunting us, _begging_ for one of us to attack in a preemptive strike. None of us took the bait. "Start."

I grabbed Naruto and Sasuke by the back of their shirts and launched myself towards the tree line, hauling the two of them with me. Sasuke landed on his feet, treating me to a glare that I brushed off with practised ease, while Naruto hit the ground in a heap beside him.

There was no chance we could get the bells, not even close. I had an advantage because that was clear to me from the onset—Naruto and Sasuke weren't in the same position. Neither of them understood where the root of the test was and remedying that was the important thing because from there a plan could be put into place. We didn't have to succeed but we did have to try, and we had to do it together.

"Hey, Kaka, what gives?" Naruto whined.

"We need to come up with a plan," I said. "All three of us."

"I don't need your help," Sasuke said, moving to go off on his own.

"You do, actually, because it's not a test to see which of us can get a bell—it's a test to see how well we work together."

Sasuke stopped in his tracks and turned towards me, the scowl set firm on his face but no immediate protest leaving his lips. "How?" he asked instead.

"Think about it," I said. "Have you ever seen a two-man genin team?"

His expression flitted from haughty to confused to annoyed as the realisation dawned on him. "He was trying to trick us."

"Exactly," I said. "He's testing our ability to work as a team by intentionally setting us against each other. I doubt it even matters if we get the bells as long as we try and get them as a team instead of separately."

I could see the gears in Sasuke's head turning as he absorbed my words, his mind finding the logic in my words even as his attitude found fault in them. He would listen to me. He wouldn't be thrilled with it, that was plain to me, but he would do it and that was what mattered.

"What? Why would he do that?" Naruto asked. "That seems dumb."

I shrugged. "Who knows? That's not important, though—we just need to try and get those bells as a team."

Sasuke turned to Naruto, eyes narrowed. "Just don't get in my way."

" _I_ won't get in _your_ way, _you'll_ get in _my_ way!"

"As if, loser."

"I'm not a loser, you bastard!"

"That's enough," I said, rolling my eyes and positioning myself between the two of them. "Neither of you are going to get into each other's way because we're going to figure out a plan before we start attacking."

"You've got something figured out?" Sasuke asked, not hiding the entirety of his disdain at the thought.

"You could say that."

.

.

Kakashi flipped the page of his book, half-listening with chakra-perked ears as the children hatched out a plan from behind their 'cover'.

He had expected it to be the Uchiha to figure out the truth of the bell test, if any of them were to do it at all, not the little brat of a kunoichi that he'd been stuck with. Worse, she had done it in mere minutes. He supposed it was his own fault for underestimating her—she had been placed on the team for a reason, after all, beyond her ability to work as a balance between her teammates, a skill she was putting to quick use a hundred feet away.

He turned an eye to the sky once their conversation began to wind down and they prepared to strike; there was an hour and a half remaining for them.

Kakashi contemplated giving them the advantage of having an open area—for all the good that it would do them—but decided against it. The thought of stringing them along, testing out the mettle of the kunoichi's reportedly unusual sensor ability, sounded more entertaining.

He heard them stir in the bushes to his left. He let them catch a glimpse of him, gave them a glimmer of hope, waited for long enough that one of them grew bold and broke through into the clearing with a determined cry, then Shunshined away.

.

.

"He's a bit over that way," I murmured between huffs of air, jerking my thumb in the direction. The chakra signature shifted on my sense and I pushed myself against the tree trunk on instinct, the bark biting into the skin of my back. "Careful—I think he knows we're here."

In truth, I could guarantee that he knew, as it would have been impossible for somebody of his level to _not_ know we were crouched such a short distance away. Most chunin could have discerned our presence with ease. To think that Kakashi was not in complete control of the situation, which included being aware of where we were at all times, was folly.

Sasuke nodded and readied his kunai. His face was set in a grim determination that would have been more suited to an assassination rather than the situation at hand, though, in his mind, the two may have been one in the same.

"Don't you even worry, Kaka, we got this!" Naruto said, punctuating his words with a grin and a laugh.

Sasuke gave him a look of disdain but didn't rebut the statement.

"'Course you do," I said. "Go on. I won't be able to signal you, remember, so don't stop until either we get the bells or he incapacitates you."

Naruto bounded off, running across the forest floor towards where I had gestured to. There was a cry of "Kage Bunshin no Jutsu!" and the area around me lit up with a sea of sunny chakra signatures.

 _Step one complete._

Sasuke waited, letting Naruto get a bit ahead of him, and followed suit.

I crept from my spot against the tree to get a visual on the situation. Kakashi was surrounded by clones, dodging and weaving around their offensive without breaking a sweat, his book out in front of him and his posture not showing a hint of tension. Sasuke had looped around to flank Kakashi, on the opposite side of where the bells jingled against his hip.

I sat, one hand pressed against the dirt and the other reaching out towards where the yin chakra that made up my shadow was gathered, formless without the light of the sun to give it shape. It would be harder to wield, would take me a second longer to weave around my skin, would hold its structure a second less than usual, but so long as I could feel the chakra there I could call upon it.

Sasuke made his move. Kakashi twisted his upper body to intercept it, turned away from me and towards Sasuke.

I pulled on the chakra and forced it around me; Kakashi punted Sasuke away with a well-placed kick. I propelled myself forward, pushing off of the ground with my hands to build momentum, and started to count down in my head.

 _Five._

The wind whistled through my ears and whipped at my clothes as I sprinted towards the action.

 _Four._

I slipped around a couple of clones, taking care to not allow my skin to come into contact with them.

Sasuke picked himself up off of the ground and threw himself at Kakashi again.

 _Three._

I was close. The armour began to crack under my grip but I held it fast. Almost, almost. I reached a hand out towards the bells.

 _Two_.

I became aware that my chakra had been ripped from my skin in the same instant that I was slammed against the tree trunk, my skull snapping back against the bark, the air getting yanked from my lungs in a single, choked exhale. There was pain, pain in my ribs, pain on my back, pain in my head, all made worse by the disorientation of being swatted away by a blow that landed at a speed too fast for my eyes to keep up with. I took a second to regulate my breathing, forcing myself to intake air in a slow, measured fashion.

"Was—was that _really_ fucking necessary?" I gasped, an arm wrapping around my ribcage as I struggled to my feet. I blinked away stars. " _Fuck_ that hurt."

"Completely," Kakashi answered from a yard away.

He ducked beneath a clone and popped another with an elbow jab.

Sasuke looked to me, to Naruto, then to Kakashi. "Fall back!" he barked.

At least he knew when to cut his losses—it was the right call to make. We weren't going to be getting anything else out of that attempt, not without a new approach. Kakashi made no move to follow as the three of us fled the scene, Sasuke taking the lead with Naruto and I trailing behind him.

"Your plan didn't work," Sasuke said as Naruto and I came to stand in front of him.

"Brilliant observation," I muttered, rubbing a hand on the sore part of my ribs, the skin bright red and swollen beneath my fingers. "I hadn't noticed."

"What'll we do now?" Naruto asked. "We can't just give up!"

"We're not going to give up," I said. "We just need to rethink this. Come up with a new plan."

"He's going to expect us to flank him like that again," Sasuke said. "We need to go for a full frontal assault."

"We can't overwhelm him, though. He's a jonin. Anything we throw at him he'll be able to just walk around. Will a frontal assault really be that effective?" I asked.

"Do you have a better idea?" he threw back at me, the tone of his voice making it clear that, in his mind at least, the answer to that was 'no'.

"Yeah," I said. "But I'm willing to give yours a shot first. If it fails, Naruto gets to come up with the next plan, and then we try one of mine again. Might as well be fair about it."

"You'd let the loser come up with a plan?" Sasuke asked.

"Of course I'd let _Naruto_ come up with a plan. Like I said to Kakashi earlier, he's been pulling pranks his entire life—this kind of shit is right up his ally."

"Yeah, you bastard!" Naruto cried.

I flicked Naruto's nose. "Don't call him that."

"What? But—hey, he is one! You heard him!"

"No name calling," I said. "If he can't call you 'loser' then you can't call him 'bastard'." I turned to Sasuke, arms crossed over my chest. "Tell us what you had in mind, Sasuke."

.

.

By the time we got in position to execute Sasuke's plan, I knew that Naruto wouldn't be getting a chance to try a plan of his own. Kakashi had— _again_ —led us on a wild goose chase through the forest, all the way back to the entrance of the training grounds, where the three stumps and the memorial stone were waiting for us.

As I broke through into the clearing I caught sight of the sun sitting high in the sky, the clock ticking away with a mere two minutes left in the middle of the clearing, both marking our time as nearing its end. He had waited us out, the asshole.

Kakashi disappeared in a puff of smoke, reappearing in the middle of the clearing, leaning against the middle stump and tapping a finger against the clock. "It appears that your time is nearly up," he said. "Unless you three have something incredible planned, I'd suggest you just quit now. I hear the Academy is offering summer classes, perfect for flunkee genin wannabees."

Naruto and Sasuke both stiffened beside me.

"We won't be needing those," I said. "We're going to pass."

"That's a surprising amount of confidence to be coming from somebody who barely passed their academic courses," Kakashi said. "Was it luck that got you here?"

He was trying to goad me—it might have worked, if not for the fact that my academic scores weren't even close to a weak spot for me and that I had the awareness to see the attempt for what it was.

 _If luck had anything to do with it, that's some damn shitty luck._ "Maybe, maybe not. It doesn't matter either way. We're going to pass this test and you're going to be our sensei."

"We'll see."

Naruto bolted ahead, fingers flying and the shouting words, "Kage Bunshin no Jutsu!"

Sasuke trailed after him with a roll of his eyes.

That left me.

My bloodlimit was out of the question—Kakashi had seen through it once, he'd see through it again. The bracelets that hung on my wrists weren't an option, either, nor were the rings that clinked together in my back pouch, as not only did I lack the ability to wield them with precision, but they weren't ideal in a situation where I was fighting side by side with others. There was too high of a chance that Naruto and Sasuke could get caught in the crossfire if I attempted to fight with them.

A sense of anticipation crept into my muscles, sent my blood pumping, had my heart hammering in my chest. I cracked my knuckles and rushed forward, holding my body low to the ground as I picked my way through the mess of clones, Kakashi sitting in my sights.

I was left with taijutsu. While hand-to-hand combat wasn't ideal when going up against somebody who had me so woefully outclassed, I had a couple of advantages on my side.

The first being that Naruto, his fifty clones, and Sasuke were each taking up minor chunks of his attention, instead of it sitting on me alone. That wasn't to say that I had any confidence in my ability to land a hit on Kakashi, but it meant there was a minor, itty bitty, minuscule chance that I could, instead of none whatsoever.

The second was that Kakashi wouldn't hurt me. The blow he had given me to the ribs earlier, for example, had been painful, but he had avoided causing any real injury, leaving a minor bruise instead of broken bones. It would have been _easy_ for him to break a few ribs with that hit and he didn't. He knew his strength. That gave me room to take openings that would otherwise be considered dangerous; in that fight, there _were_ no truly dangerous openings.

I skid to a stop, finding myself within striking distance of Kakashi, poised behind his right side, and took a breath to evaluate.

The height difference made it impossible to hit above the elbow.

I had a brief opening. My strike had to be quick and well-aimed, making the most of what was available to me.

My eyes took in the weak points that were right in front of me: back of the knee, ankles, elbow.

I closed the gap between the two of us and aimed a vicious palm-strike at the bone in his elbow. At worst it would numb his arm and disable it for a short time, at best it would fracture and make the limb useless until he saw a medic. Or neither, in that instance, as Kakashi dipped away from the attack and kicked back at me, sending me soaring across the clearing like a rag-doll. I righted myself in the air and hit the ground at a roll, letting gravity carry me back up into a crouch.

I put a bit of chakra into my hands and my feet and, with a hearty _push_ , slingshot myself through the air— _walking is for chumps_ —with my legs outstretched, a dropkick directed towards his face. His nose, more specifically, because if I could do at least one thing to him that day, a broken nose was more than enough. Kakashi reached up a hand and caught my ankles with inches to spare, using the momentum to fling me away.

That time, though, instead of just landing a few yards away, my projected point of touchdown was _damn far away._

 _Shit._

I channelled a burst of chakra into my wrist and lashed out with my chains. I couldn't aim them to save my life, at that point, but I didn't need precision. There was an entire forest for me to target and the chains were bound to collide with _something_ so long as they reached far enough.

The chain shot out from my wrist and I grabbed on with my free hand, letting the links slip across my palm as it extended, the layer of chakra around them creating a buffer between my skin and the metal. The chain connected with one of the trees and my hand closed around the chains, bracing myself against the impact—it wouldn't do to pop my arm from its socket.

I cut off my chakra. The storage seal closed and chain retracted itself and I was jerked forward.

Branches smacked me the entire way in, and the landing was less than stellar, but it was better than having to run back. The chain had embedded itself in the trunk of a tree and created an anchor. I tore the links out from the trunk with a swift pull, letting the last few feet withdraw into the seal.

 _Done._

 _Okay_.

I sprinted back to the clearing in ten seconds flat. The area was alight with chaos, as it had been before, except that when I watched the fight rage on, there was a desperation in both Naruto and Sasuke's movements that hadn't been there.

My eye landed on the clock. There were ten seconds left.

Even though I knew that the bells were irrelevant, knew the true purpose of the test, I began to feel it too, that itch in my limbs and the pumping of my heart and the dryness of my throat. My entire body ached to spring into action and make a last-ditch effort towards them. I didn't.

Instead, I watched as the last of Naruto's clones were popped, Sasuke was once again knocked away without a second thought, and the shrill ring of the alarm pierced the air. The entire clearing came to an abrupt halt.

Sasuke took a step back and holstered his kunai, though he kept his eyes locked on the bells. Naruto stared at Kakashi with clear uncertainty.

"You failed your mission," Kakashi said. "None of you got bells."

"Were we supposed to be able to?" I asked. "Three genin against a jonin is literally impossible."

Kakashi stared at me for a long moment. "No," he finally said, "you weren't."

" _Eh_? What was even the point, then?"

"Idiot," Sasuke muttered.

"You tell me, Naruto. What reason would I have to pit you three up against an impossible enemy with an impossible goal?"

Naruto's face scrunched up in thought. "Uh… to, uh… to make us work together?"

"That's correct," Kakashi answered. "Though, I'm fairly certain you only arrived there because Kasumi was kind enough to give you the answer earlier on."

 _Ouch_.

"That was the goal though, wasn't it?" Sasuke asked. His fists were clenched at his side. "For us to work together, not for us to get the bells. That means we still passed, right?"

Kakashi stared the boys down, hands in his pockets and his head tilted—he was watching Sasuke crack under the pressure, watching Naruto squirm under it, and at that point I knew, deep in my soul, in the marrow of my bones, that Kakashi Hatake was, indeed, a sadist.

"You're the first team to ever see through the test as I presented it and think for yourselves, and you did it quickly," Kakashi said. "Kasumi, you kept a level head and thought your way through the situation. Sasuke, Naruto, you both trusted her word the entire time, even when you could have broken off half way through and gone out on your own. You functioned as a team, one of the most important things for a genin team to do in a situation like what I presented to you. For that, yes, I suppose you've passed."

Naruto whooped, punching a fist in the air.

The edges of Sasuke's mouth curled up in a smirk and the tension that threaded his shoulders eased.

Kakashi wasn't done.

He strolled through the clearing, gaze set on a point ahead of him—the memorial stone.

"Any time that you leave the village, your life is on the line. The people at your back, your team, are the people who will keep you alive. You need to be able to work with them and trust them," Kakashi said. He stopped in front of the stone. "Do any of you know what this is?"

"The memorial stone," I offered. "Where the names of those honoured in the village as heroes are engraved."

Maen had brought me with him, every so often, to visit the stone when he was paying respects to his family. Both of his parent's names were on there, as was the name of his older brother.

"Then my name's gonna be on there one day!"

I winced. "No, Naruto," I murmured. "I don't think you quite get it."

"Eh? Whattya mean?"

"These ninja are a special kind of hero," Kakashi said. "The memorial stone commemorates all of the ninja who have given their lives to keep the village safe. The names of my closest friends are engraved into this stone."

"Oh," Naruto said, his smile dropping and his shoulders deflating.

A bitter reminder of the bitter reality.

The stone, with its thousands of names that were carved into the obsidian, stood as both the ultimate dream and worst nightmare for the ninja population of Konoha, with some vowing to go out in a blaze of glory and earn their spot on it, and others refusing to become another statistic. I had the awareness to know that I was the latter; the last thing I wanted was for my name to end up beside the countless others who died in the line of fire.

I didn't need to be a hero.

Kakashi turned to face us again, demeanour lightening. "Congratulations, you three. You're now officially members of Team 7—meet me in front of the Hokage tower tomorrow morning for your first mission."


	14. Graduation: Part 2

_._

* * *

 _Continuous improvement is_

 _better than delayed perfection._

* * *

"Train with us."

I spread my legs apart, hands in front of me in a measured stance. "No."

 _Step forward, left-hand punch. Right-hand followup._

"Why not?"

 _Step forward again, left palm strike, step forward, right palm strike._ "'Cause."

Both hands dart forward in a rib-jab.

"That's not a good reason."

 _Step back, breathe, open stance. Right punch, left punch._ "Tough shit."

Ino huffed and Sakura shot me an uncertain look.

"Ino, maybe we should go," Sakura murmured.

"No way," Ino hissed. "You want to get better for Sasuke, right?"

"Well, yeah…"

"Then we need _her_ help."

I paused in my exercises long enough to cast them an irked look. "Find somebody else to help you train," I answered, the last word coming out in a rush as one of my hands darted forward to strike at my invisible enemy, picking up my kata again. "I'm _busy_."

"That's a perfect time to help us," Ino countered.

" _Go away_."

"Please," Sakura said. "We… we _really_ need the help."

"You both have teachers for that," I reminded her. _Left leg kicks out. Right leg kicks out_. "Go bother them."

 _Left-hand jab, right-hand jab, half pivot. Left-hand jab, right-hand jab, close stance_.

"We don't want their help for this, we want _yours_."

I let my muscles relax, a sigh leaving my lips. "You're not going to leave, are you?"

"No," Ino answered.

I turned to look at the two of them, standing at the entrance of the training ground, Ino with her hands on her hips and Sakura's eyes darting between her and myself.

Their clothes were, in and of themselves, the most tangible proof that my words those years ago had had _some_ level of effect on them.

Ino had on a fitted purple tank top over top a long-sleeve ninja-mesh shirt, plain black leggings covering her legs, and her headband wrapped around her waist. Sakura had a light pink t-shirt, black shorts, and a pair of knee-high boots rather than the typical sandals, her headband hanging around her neck. Each had on kunai holsters, Sakura on her waist and Ino on her thigh.

Both of them had hints of makeup dotting their faces and perfume that I could smell from a few feet away, but they _looked like kunoichi_. They _looked_ like they were ready to train. Sakura had even pulled her hair back into a thick braid rather than let it hang loose down her back.

"Alright, look," I said. "If I help you— _if_ —you need to commit."

"We will!" Sakura cried. "Really, we will!"

"Totally," Ino agreed.

"I don't have a lot of time to train to myself as it is, so just know that _I'm not here to teach you_ ," I continued. "You can _train_ with me, but I'm not your damn teacher. I won't be teaching you kata unless you pick up on the ones I'm practicing, I won't chase you down if you don't show up to training because I don't care whether or not you come, and I won't go easy on you. Clear?"

"Got it!"

"Yeah!"

Both of them were smiling in the wake of their success. They were _excited_ at the thought of training with me, unaware of what they had gotten themselves into—how adorable.

My lips curled up in a feral, cheshire grin. "Then it's time for you two to get warmed up. Go run twenty laps around Konoha."

* * *

Kakashi stood a few feet away from me, pushed his hands through a set of signs that passed faster than my eyes could track, and spat out a human-sized fireball. I _felt_ the heat radiating off of it as the plume of flames careened forward and decimated the training dummy that was unlucky enough to stand in its path.

"The name and list of hand signs are here," Kakashi said, reaching into his pocket and removing a scroll, tossing it in my direction. "Gather your chakra in your mouth and expel it from there—don't bother using a lot right now or you'll just burn yourself."

I plucked the scroll out of the air and unfurled it, my eyes roaming over the scant instructions. There were a couple of brief diagrams, showing the gathering of chakra in the mouth and transforming it into oil, a few sentences outlining the ignition of the oil, and then the sequence of hand signs.

I looked up, the words "is this it?" dancing on the tip of my tongue, but Kakashi was gone—he was sitting by where the boys were working on their chakra control, his book open in front of him.

 _Asshole_.

.

.

"Kami, this tastes _fucking awful_!"

.

.

"Fucking—my _lip_! That burns _so fucking bad_!"

.

.

"Ow! _Ow_!"

.

.

 _Knee up, jab left, jab right_.

 _Foot touches down. Sharp downward strike._

 _Left punch, pivot, right punch—_

I dipped down, dodging the kunai.

 _Pivot._

 _Crouch. Leg darts out in a low sweep._

 _Roll forward, up, close stance._

 _Quick jab—_

A kunai whizzed by my chin and I forced my weight back onto my heel, the blade skimming my skin. I lifted a finger up, dabbing at the blood as it leaked out.

I turned to look at Kakashi. "Seriously?" I asked. "Can you at least aim for the chin down?"

Kakashi raised an eyebrow, twirling a kunai around his index finger that he chucked at me by way of response. I dropped into a crouch and let it soar over my head. He wasn't throwing _hard_ , to make it possible for me to dodge in the first place, but a kunai was a kunai and it would hurt like a bitch if I let one of them hit me—which was the entire point.

I huffed, retaking my stance.

 _Asshole._

.

.

"What's she doing?"

"You idiot—she's _meditating._ "

"Don't call him an idiot," I said, the words leaving my mouth without a thought.

"Wait, what does that mean? It just looks like she's sleeping funny."

I didn't have to have my eyes open to know that Sasuke was rolling his eyes.

"You use it to help train your yin chakra," I said. "You focus on your yin chakra and stop focusing on the world around you."

"So then why—"

"Naruto," I said. "You know I love you, but right now, I need you to just… not talk."

"Oh," he said, letting out a sheepish laugh. "Sorry."

"It's fine."

I took in a deep breath, let it out.

In, out.

The world around me faded out and the chakra signatures of the village faded in.

A massive chunk of the village was within my sense, with the level of detail in the signatures depending on their distance. While the growth of my sense had been gradual for as long as I could remember, over the previous few months, after the point that my chakra reserves—my yin chakra especially—began to see exponential growth, the amount of detail I could ascertain and the distance of my charka sense skyrocketed.

Nobody was quite sure _why_ or _how_.

Maen had figured that it had to do with my yin chakra—his theory, at least, was that the low density of my yin chakra made it easier for it to spread around when I opened my sense, as chakra sensing was based in yin chakra.

Shikaku had questioned how I could garner the level of detail that I could if my yin chakra was such a low density.

Maen had answered: bloodlimit bullshit.

Frankly, I had been satisfied with that answer. There was no way to disprove it as _nobody knew a damn thing about my bloodlimit_. It wasn't unheard of for a bloodlimit to come with multiple components, especially considering that my chakra sense, with the hyper-awareness it gave me of my own chakra, was a significant component towards my being able to use my bloodlimit in the first place. Combining that with the fact that my bloodlimit itself was based in my specialized yin chakra and, well, it seemed plausible.

The biggest issue was that the increased limit made it that much more difficult for me to use my chakra sense for any extended period of time; it was like reverting back to the earlier times with my chakra sense, with my range outdoing my mental capacity.

"She's _still_ meditating?"

"Idio—"

"What did I say about name calling?"

There was a grunt. "Hn."

"Words, Sasuke."

"Shut up."

"There you go! Was that so hard?"

"Hn."

I stood up and stretched, turning to face the two boys.

Kakashi had left an hour prior—or, rather, he had 'disappeared' and promptly taken residence in the branches of the nearest tree. He was testing us, I assumed, though for what I had no clue. Either way, I decided that the best course of action was to keep the boys training. It had taken a bit of cajoling—see: blackmail—to convince them both to stick around for the extra hour and continue their training together, but they had done it with minimal bickering.

"Well, I think you guys did well," I said. "Let's go out for lunch."

"Ramen!" Naruto cried, scrambling to get to his feet.

My lips stretched into a grin, though it was cut off by my wince when the action pulled at the sore, burned skin around my mouth. "Ramen," I agreed. "You're coming too, Sasuke."

"No, I'm—"

"It's free food," I said. "I'll pay for us."

"Ninja shouldn't be eating ramen," he said. "There's nothing healthy about that."

"Nah, but it tastes damn good," I said. "Come on. One lunch won't kill you."

.

.

Kakashi watched the three of them trail out of the training grounds, not missing the brief upward flick of Kasumi's middle finger from behind Naruto's back as she led the boys away, aimed in his direction.

He bit back a sigh.

He had done some terrible things in his life, he had, but he didn't think any of them were horrible enough that he should deserve being her teacher.

* * *

I trudged through the sliding door and walked into the Nara living room, stepping into the slippers that I had brought with me from home. The home was empty save a lone signature that occupied the couch a few feet in front of me.

Shikamaru looked up from the TV at my footsteps. The edge of his mouth lifted up in a smirk.

"Pyjamas?"

"Shut up," I said.

I flopped onto the couch, filling the space that he had vacated on instinct—I had the boy well trained. The action sent tingles of pain across the skin of my arms and legs, jarring the scratches that lined my limbs, battle wounds from our earlier encounter with the demon cat.

We had been given the Tora Mission.

It was our fourth D-rank of the week, with the missions getting worse rather than better as the days had progressed. It had started with gardening for a neighbourhood of retired ninja. After that we had cleaned the home of an older civilian lady, who had taken every available opportunity to make _the loveliest little comments_ about the musculature of my arms and the scars that littered my skin, using the same persnickety tone I imagined she took up with her granddaughters; she was an old hag. Then there was the babysitting, in which I sat through two hours of being intermittently shat and barfed on by a two-month-old—the poop that babies produced, it turned out, smelled _rancid_.

I had thought all of that was bad.

The Tora Mission, however, had been _so much worse_. Three hours trailing a damn cat across the village, two hours staked out in the forest, and a final hour of chasing the thing around and hoping that nobody saw us because there was a special form of _shame_ that came from being outmanoeuvred by a _cat_.

I was cranky. I was very, _very_ cranky.

I reached out and grabbed the TV remote, flicking through the channels.

Shikamaru groaned. "C'mon, Kas—I was watching that."

"Too bad."

"It was in the middle—"

"I don't care."

"Troublesome," he muttered.

I settled with an old cartoon that depicted a talking kunai and a scroll with a face.

It was stupid, but there was something about children's television that served to lessen the maelstrom of annoyance and frustration that churned in the back of my mind.

I wiggled around to get more comfortable and flicked my hair, a wavy mass of auburn, off my shoulder; Shikamaru grunted and pushed it back.

"Shika."

"What?"

"Don't touch my hair."

"Don't put it in my face."

"Then move your face."

"Just braid it, that's what you always do when it's annoying."

"I don't have a hair elastic."

"Go get one."

" _No_." I turned, eyeing his hair. "You could give me yours."

"What? No."

"Or, better, you could braid my hair."

"Not a chance."

"Why not? You suggested it."

He scoffed. "I'm not braiding your hair—that's so much work."

"Then I hope you like having my hair in your face."

A pause.

I heard a sigh as the body behind me shifted.

"Sit up a little," he muttered.

I leant on my elbow, craning my neck back to look at him; his hair was sitting down around his shoulders and he had the elastic held between two fingers. "Wait, really?"

He rolled his eyes at me. "If it'll make you leave me alone then yeah, whatever."

I sat cross-legged and Shikamaru mimicked the action, with one of his legs pressing against my back and the other leaning off the arm of the couch. He pulled at my hair, tugging some of the strands and sifting through them, handling the duty of braiding my hair with all the grace one would expect out of a twelve-year-old.

"Divide it into three chunks," I said. "Each of them has to be equal."

There was grumbling but I felt him follow the instructions. It took him a minute of weaving but I heard the sound of the elastic snapping around my hair and felt the braid drop against my back; half of my hair escaped the 'braid' and splayed around my face.

I let out a snort, raising a hand to try smothering the action, a losing battle.

"Uh…"

"You did it too loose."

"What, how tight do I do it?"

"Tight enough so that it actually stays."

"Uh-huh."

Attempt number two saw no more success, the hair unravelling half-way through and slipping out of his fingers.

Another bout of chuckles that I failed to hide.

"Tight, Shika."

"Whatever."

The braid was completed on the third try.

I pulled it over my shoulder. My hair was gathered into an awkward, unevenly wound pattern, with strands of hair spilling down onto my shoulders at even the slightest movement. I took one look at it and broke down in a fit of loud, ugly laughter.

Shikamaru stared at me like I'd lost my mind.

"It—I'm… I'm _sorry,_ it's just— _you can't braid_!"

"No?"

"You're a damn genius with an IQ over 200, but you can't braid," I wheezed, leaning back into him and holding my ribs. "Sorry, but I just… didn't see that one coming."

I pulled at the elastic and let my hair fall loose, my fingers winding through it to work out the knots, chuckles still bubbling from my lips. In all of five seconds I had it gathered into a neat plait that fell down to the small of my back.

He blinked, his face impassive. There was a _thump_ as he fell over and lay back down on the coach.

"You're so troublesome," he muttered, turning into the pillow and shoving his face against the fabric.

There was a grin on my face as I lay back down beside him. "Thank for trying though, Shika, I appreciate it. I think I really I needed that."

"Whatever."

.

.

"Kaa?"

"Yes, Shikamaru?"

"Can you show me how to braid?"


	15. Land of Waves: Part 1

_._

* * *

 _Change is the only constant in life._

* * *

We got the Wave mission that next day.

Hiruzen handed us the scroll like it was a gift. As we stood there, and I watched Naruto freak out in his excitement and Sasuke actually crack a grin, I felt more like he'd given us a curse.

* * *

"I—I _still_ can't—can't believe you're letting the… _the_ _girl_ ta… take the front position," Tazuna slurred, his words intermingled with hiccups.

 _Don't say anything. Don't say anything._

"Do you not know when to shut the fuck up?"

 _Damn it._

"Kasumi," Kakashi said, a deceptive mildness to his voice. "What did I say earlier?"

"Whatever."

I darted forward, pulling ahead of the rest of the group, as per what Kakashi had permitted—it was something of a not-quite order, really—me to do.

Naruto and Sasuke were flanking Tazuna, Kakashi was bringing up the rear, and I had been left on point, there to sense out any oncoming signatures that were heading our way. I was certain, though, that I had been placed there to keep me away from Tazuna as much as scout out the path ahead of us.

Tazuna, in all his wasted glory, was loud, smelt like liquor and vomit and stupidity, and had taken to making more than a few comments that had me wanting to punch him in the mouth.

Or the throat. Or the groin.

I wasn't picky.

Either way, leaving me in his general vicinity for any extended period of time was a bad idea all around, and Kakashi had realized that. The fact that, by that point, Konoha was no longer within the range of my chakra sense, only caused the mess of nerves brewing in the back of my mind to swell, further shortening my temper and lessening my ability to be around him.

I took to the trees instead, bobbing and weaving through the branches. The exertion was relaxing, something to focus on instead of the drunken slob that tottered along in the background, something to calm my mind.

I let the pain in my legs overwhelm the worries in my mind about what lay ahead of us.

I let the heat of the sun beating against my back swallow up the jittering voice in my mind that questioned the way my presence would alter the incoming events.

I let the burning of my lungs distract me from the longing that ached in my heart, the part of me that wanted, more than anything, to go the fuck home.

* * *

It took two days, by which point we were nearing the eastern coast of Fire Country and the edges of Konoha's reach, for the first group of thugs to blip on my radar.

I paused, anchoring myself against a tree branch with a cluster of chakra along the soles of my shoes—one, two, three of them, all advancing towards our group at a snail's pace. They were a fair distance off, enough kilometres away that I couldn't discern any details about them, save for my certainty that they were civilian.

I raised a hand to my comm and flicked it on. "Hey, I've got three."

"Oh?" came the drawled reply.

"They're, eh… six kilometres off your position?"

"How far off of yours?" Kakashi asked.

"Five or so."

"Civilian?"

"Yep."

"What's the ETA?"

"An hour?" I guessed. "You're both moving at about the same speed, I think."

"Understood," he answered. "Go scout ahead. I want you to broadcast an analysis of all three on the public channel once you get there."

"Alright."

I shut off the comm and pushed off the branch, catapulting through the canopy of the trees with ease.

Five kilometres may not have sounded like a long way to travel, but even at ninja speed, it was a fifteen minutes jaunt through the trees before the targets were within visual distance.

I caught a brief glimpse of them through the cover of the leaves—three men, average height, average musculature, each with a weapon—and looped around to trail them from behind. I kept my breathing controlled and low, not wanting to risk alerting them, though I doubted that they could have detected me anyways. It was a good habit to keep up.

Creeping out to the edge of the branch I had settled on, I raised a hand and shifted the leaves out of the way, channelling as much chakra into the fine pathways of my eyes as I dared—blinding myself by accident would be a nightmare while in a mission situation, even temporarily.

A minute passed in which I observed the men and let my breathing return to normal, switching position as needed.

When my thoughts were collected I pushed my comm into the 'on' position. "I'm in position," I said.

"Hey, hey, Kaka! How's it—"

"Shut up, idiot. This is meant to be used for information delivery only."

"Don't call him an idiot."

"What she said, bastard!"

As tempting as it was to bang my head against the bark at that moment, I resisted the urge. "Don't call him a bastard."

"That's enough," Kakashi cut in, sounding less than amused. "Kasumi, I believe you have a report to deliver?"

"I'm so glad you asked." I squinted, shifting forward, pulling what details I could from the retreating backs of the men. "Three men, ranging between their early twenties and early thirties. Average builds on each. Two of them have swords hanging by their sides, one left-handed and the other right-handed, while the third has a war hammer. I think the one with the war hammer is the leader—he's leading their group by a couple of feet, his posture is more upright and confident, and he's got more scarring along his skin than the other two."

"Any type of armour?" Kakashi asked.

"None," I responded. "They're just wearing civilian clothes—they're probably overconfident in their abilities."

"Keep trailing them," Kakashi ordered. "When we cross paths, I want you to attack from behind."

"Got it."

"Wha—attack from behind?" Naruto cried. "That's so dirty!"

"That's kinda the point," I said.

The sound of Kakashi sighing crackled through the earpiece. "I'm ordering radio silence on this channel," he said. "If you need to contact me, do so directly, Kasumi. Otherwise, wait for my signal upon engagement."

"'Kay."

The connection died. I turned off my mic and continued on, holding my distance.

The three men didn't appear to be the most intelligent bunch, nor were they going out of their way to be conspicuous as they traversed the dirt road. They conversed in bellowing tones and had bouts of roaring laughter; they shoved each other around and stomped forward at a marching pace, leaving behind a trail that anybody with the slightest bit of tracking experience—that would be me—could follow with ease.

It was, yet again, a show of cockiness—or of vast stupidity. They either assumed they could handle anybody who might follow them or hadn't considered that somebody might try in the first place.

It didn't matter either way as even a fresh genin could handle opponents of their ilk without issue.

The minutes ticked by, the morning sun rising high into the sky as noon approached. The heat, which had been intense on its own from the onset of the day, grew worse, as per usual of the summer weather in Fire Country. I was glad that I had opted for a grey tank top and a mesh undershirt rather than a t-shirt.

I shifted closer, closing some of the distance between myself and the mercenaries once the two groups of signatures were within minutes of colliding, getting my comm prepared on reflex.

Tazuna was the first one to come into view, with Naruto and Sasuke close behind him, Kakashi at the back. While Tazuna was too inebriated to be fazed and Kakashi too experienced, Naruto and Sasuke both tensed up at the sight of the group of men. Naruto showed the signs of nerves with a higher level of clarity, from the tightening of his shoulders to the bunching of his fists in his pockets, while Sasuke displayed it in the heightened movement of his chakra signature.

I didn't feel the slightest bit of trepidation at the thought of fighting with the men, not when I knew that it would be child's play compared to what was ahead of us.

I sat back on my heels, watching with my chakra sense from under the cover of the forest and awaiting my signal.

"Lookie at what we got here," a voice said, following it up with a chuckle.

"A couple o' kiddies and two old men."

"Terrifying," a different voice agreed.

I rolled my eyes and muttered to myself, "Jackasses."

There was the barest of twitches in Kakashi's signature—I had forgotten that my comm was on.

"Hey, hey, Kakashi," Naruto said. "Can we just beat them up already?"

"Relax, idiot."

"Stop calling me that!"

I sighed and made a mental note to get back at Sasuke for that comment later.

"Come now, Naruto," Kakashi said, not bothering to chastise them. "There's no need to pick a fight with everybody we come across."

"That brat ain't the one who's gonna be picking a fight, old man," one of the voices said.

I could imagine the unimpressed stare Kakashi was throwing their way in response.

The further you got from Konoha, the less likely it was that the locals would recognize you as a ninja. Given that we were nearing the coast and the nearest Konoha outpost was a half-day trip from our location, there was a high chance that anybody we might encounter would have never seen a ninja in their lives. Their idea of a ninja would be built from horror stories and legends, boogeymen rather than people, an image constructed of traits taken from stories told by mothers in attempts to scare their children and tales spread by the daimyo to keep his citizens in line.

The word ninja conjured up demons who lived in shadows rather than soldiers who wore the skin of men.

Konoha never fought to dispel that in the rural parts of the country as there was no need—they had nothing to gain from those people. It was, in fact, to their benefit to keep up that visage with those near the borders, as it deterred any form of back dealings with the other countries.

The signatures of the three men jolted, aggravated by adrenaline as they reached for their weapons and prepared for a fight that they'd never get.

Kakashi pulsed his chakra once, twice.

I abandoned my spot and hopped down onto the dirt road without a sound.

Naruto and Sasuke had placed themselves in front of Tazuna, kunai out and stances ready, though the hand that Naruto held his kunai in visibly shook, in stark contrast to the steady grip that Sasuke had on his. They had the undivided attention of the men.

Taking advantage of that fact, I ghosted up behind the man closest to me, one of the sword wielders. The heel of my foot acquainted itself with the back of his knee, slamming into the joint, his bone collapsing beneath the blow and emitting an audible crunch. He went down with a cry of pain and dismay. As his body crumbled I followed up with a knee to the ribs, sending him careening through the air and into a nearby tree.

Compared to sparring with Sasuke or Lee, the movements and reactions of the men were sluggish and pitiful, worse than Academy students.

The other two men turned to me, facing away from the boys. I cocked my head and gave a little wave.

"Wha— _a little girl_?"

"Hi," I said, taking a couple of steps back, making a bit of space. _Right this way, assholes._ "Are you sure you wanna do this?"

The other sword user hesitated, giving me an apprehensive look, his eyes darting from where I stood to the leader of his group. His comrade didn't share his good sense—the man with the war hammer appeared resolute, angered rather than dissuaded.

"Pathetic," he spat, glaring at the downed member and tightening his grip on his hammer. "What a useless piece of trash."

"Is he the only one?" I asked, goading them on. "Neither of you look particularly useful, either."

 _Come on, hit me, you know you want to._

They obliged.

Both of the men lunged, the one with the hammer taking the initiative and his comrade trailing behind him.

Sasuke darted forward and flew at one of the men, nailing him in the back of the head with the hilt of his kunai. I expected Naruto to attack the other man, as was the obvious action for him to take, but realized at the last second that he had remained frozen in his place.

 _Shit._

I threw myself to the side in an awkward, one-handed cartwheel, landing back on my feet again a few feet away.

My hand grabbed at my kunai holster and I pulled one of them out, reversing my grip on it to throw from the blade instead of the handle. The hilt smacked into the middle of the man's forehead and knocked him off balance. Sasuke took the opening and finished the job, dipping down into a low sweep to knock the man's legs out from under him and letting the momentum carry him back up, delivering a vicious round-house kick to the man's back.

There was no need to finish the job—we were strongly discouraged for ending the lives of those who weren't likely to come after us again, especially when they were citizens of the Land of Fire.

Naruto stared at us with wide eyes. His hand hadn't ceased shaking.

Sasuke spared him a smug half-glance, scoffing, walking around the group of thugs. "You're such a scaredy cat."

"Shut up," Naruto answered. The expression on his face hardened, morphing into an annoyed scowl. "I just—I knew that you two had it covered."

"Sure."

Naruto looked to me, expecting me to defend him, to tell him that what he did was alright, I supposed.

I offered him none of that.

He was a child. He hadn't been hardened by battle. He was scared and that was _fine_ , that wasn't unexpected, nor was it unreasonable—but it was dangerous for a ninja. If that fight had involved more than thugs that I could handle in my sleep, a slip up of that manner could have been lethal. If that fight had been one Naruto faced on his own, he would have died for his lack of action.

There was no forgiveness for those who couldn't handle the pressure of battle. This world didn't show mercy to the weak—it devoured them. Naruto needed to learn that; to coddle him and lie to him would be unkind.

It felt like a knife twisting in my gut to do it, it left me with a hint of guilt stabbing at my heart, but I _would_ do it.

"I'm going to move ahead again," I said, meeting Kakashi's gaze. "I'll contact you about any other potential threats."

* * *

The fire crackled in front of me, the flames spitting sparks up into to the night sky and providing an ever dimming light to guard against the otherwise impenetrable black.

Naruto and Sasuke were both out cold on either side or our meagre camp. Kakashi was laying up against the trunk of a tree, his eye shut but his signature bouncing with an activity that spoke of faint slumber which could be broken in seconds. Tazuna was staring up at the foliage above, his sleeping mat strewn out across the dirt to my left, placed close to my position so as to provide an easy defence should the need arise.

I had a small portion of my attention sectioned off to monitoring the chakra activity of the area around us while the rest was focused on the movement of the chain in front of me, the links stretching out from the bracelet that hung off of the middle of my forearm.

The grasp I had over the chain was tenuous at best. It was as if I was learning to make use of another limb, with a feather touch being insufficient and not garnering even a twitch from the chain, while a harsher touch turned it erratic. It reminded me of the learning curve that came with chakra control in general. Practice made perfect, and all that. Overthinking about the finer details of controlling the chain muddied the effect and with enough time, moving them would become something akin to second nature—that was what the shopkeeper had told to me, at least.

I wasn't certain I bought that, but given that he had made eight rings and two bracelets, and had intended for them to all be used _at the same time_ , there had to be some truth to it.

The rings, with their thinner chains, were more difficult to learn with. I carried them around in a pouch that was attached to the back of my waistband, as a precautionary measure, but in practice, the bracelets were easier to use. The other perk to using the bracelets was that it left my hands open—punching somebody with rings on hurt like a _bitch_ if you didn't know how to cushion the blow with chakra in just the right way. I may have been good, but that was still a bit above my level.

The chain stretched out a few metres in front of me, whirling and curling, shifting and flowing with the light breeze that swept through the air, appearing almost ethereal.

"You should go to sleep," I said, my eyes locked on the chain and the chakra that coated them. "We'll be leaving before it's light out."

"How'd you know I wasn't asleep?" Tazuna grunted.

He sounded as sober as I had heard him since we departed Konoha.

 _Your muscles are too stiff, your chakra is too active, and you snore like a fucking foghorn while you sleep._ "Ninja shit."

"That's it, huh?"

"That's it."

"Even you little brats are impossible."

"Yeah."

Tazuna shifted, groping at his bag for his bottle of sake and taking a swig. He pushed himself up into a sitting position, his joints popping and cracking at the movement, and he settled into a cross-legged position with a sigh.

"Y'know," he said, tipping his bottle back again, "I've been meaning to ask you—what's somebody with a Wave accent doing in Konoha."

"It's not a Wave accent," I answered.

"It may be dulled, gaki, but that's a Wave accent."

I rolled my eyes. "Don't be stupid—it's _not_ a Wave accent."

"Yeah? Then what is it, huh?"

"None of your fucking business, that's what."

I had long since stopped bothering to dull my words with Tazuna. There wasn't any reason to avoid offending him, as there would be no action taken against me for doing so—what could he do by that point? Send us away? Complain to the village? Not a chance.

If he wanted my respect he could earn it like anybody else. Being a rude, nosy old drunk who had knowingly put four people in danger and spent the entire trip demeaning us wasn't helping his case any.

Tazuna leant his head back and chugged the contents of the sake bottle, tossing the empty container onto his sack. "Have it your way," he said, raising a hand to wipe it across his lips. "Stuffy ninja."

He collapsed back down onto his mat, rolling onto his side and facing away from me.

Two more hours passed before I had to rouse everybody except Tazuna to finish our trek to the coast.

.

.

The encounter with the Demon Brothers kicked off not when I came across a puddle on a dry dirt road, but when I stumbled on a couple of inconspicuous girls wandering the road who had the signatures of ninja and a fuzz around them that spoke of a henge.

I had gone ahead but didn't have my chakra sense extended to its full potential, putting the two men within spitting distance of the rest of our group, no more than half a kilometre.

The second their signatures hit my sense I altered my path, veering left to leave space between myself and them, not wanting to risk alerting them if I got too close. I looped around and took up a position that situated me at their flanks.

A hand switched my comms on. "Hey, Kakashi," I murmured. "There's a couple of ninja up this way and they're on a direct course to where you guys are."

There was a beat of silence. "Are there?"

"Yeah," I answered. "It's kind of hard to tell, 'cause there's a henge around both of them, but I think they're either genin or chunin—whichever, I can guarantee that they're not civilians."

"Good work," he replied, the tightness in his voice audible even through the speaker. "Return back to our position."

"On my way."

The scene that greeted me when I landed in front of them was a Not Happy Kakashi staring down Tazuna, Naruto and Sasuke both watching the scene unfold from a few feet away. Kakashi had led the group off of the main road, parking it behind a couple of trees in the forests that lined the path, out of sight from those who would be heading through.

Tazuna was, as any sane person would be, shitting bullets under the gaze of Kakashi, leaning away from him and averting his eyes down to the ground, a bead of sweat dripping down from his forehead.

"Now that we're all here," Kakashi drawled, "care to explain why there are two ninja currently heading our way?"

"I don't know," Tazuna said, further shuffling back. "They might just—they might just be wandering ninja. Your folk do that sometimes, don't they?"

"Both of them are disguised," I put in. "They're walking in this direction henged as civilian girls. If they were just regular missing-nin then they would have been travelling at ninja speed and they wouldn't be taking an open path like they are. Plus, there's nobody else within about six kilometres—I checked. Whatever they want, it involves us specifically."

Kakashi stared, appraising me with his one steely eye, and gave a slow nod. "She's correct. The trap they've set is one intended for a civilian, not ninja, meaning that they aren't after my team—they're after you. So, I'm going to ask again, and you're going to answer me: why are there two ninja coming towards us?"

Tazuna took a swig of sake and proceeded to spill his guts to our group.

I didn't listen; I knew the gist of what he was saying, had that much stored in the back of my head along with the rest of the bits of knowledge I retained about the world I was in. I spent the time tracking the two signatures that made their way towards where we were, monitoring them as they grew closer.

"Kakashi, we gotta help them!" Naruto cried, pulling my attention back to the conversation at hand. "He's just trying to help his village!"

"He lied to us," I said. "He put all of us in danger."

"For a good reason," Naruto said. He huffed, shooting me a look out of the corner of his eyes. "We're ninja, we're supposed to help people."

"We're supposed to do our job," I countered. "Taking on a mission like this is beyond what our job calls for."

"I don't care! I wanna help this guy—come on, Kaka, you should too!"

"What, do you think we can't handle it?" Sasuke asked.

"Not really, no."

"I'll be the one fighting the ninja while you three will handle the mercenaries that we encounter," Kakashi cut in. His voice held no room for contest. "I doubt Gato has anybody at his disposal that's capable of beating me in a fight."

 _If only you knew._

I frowned, crossing my arms over my chest, a bitter taste tainting my mouth.

There was nothing I could do. While pushing boundaries happened to be a pastime of mine there were limits to what I could do, lines that even I could recognize were not to be crossed—fighting a commanding officer on a direct order was one of them. He wasn't offering us a potential plan of attack, he was giving us _the_ plan of attack; there was no room for negotiation.

Kakashi was our asshole of a teacher, that much was true, but beyond that, he was our superior. That had to be shown respect, whether or not I liked it.

 _Fuck this, fuck you, take me the fuck home._ "That means you'll be dealing with the two ninja heading our way?"

"It does."

"They're a minute off if they keep their pace," I told him. "Their signatures have been getting more active the closer they get—I'm not really sure _what_ specifically has their chakra aggravated, though."

Kakashi nodded. "All of you form a defensive position around Tazuna. I'll signal you when I'm done."

* * *

A sprawling, monstrous amalgamation of chakra smacked against my sense and every muscle in my body seized on instinct, alarm bells blaring and red flags waving in my mind.

 _Zabuza._

The lapse in attention caused my foot to slip against the branch in front of me, having not had any chakra coating it to keep its grip. I righted myself mid-air, catching hold of the next outstretched limb with my hands and swinging myself back up, gaining a foothold on the nearest branch. Without a seconds hesitation, I pivoted and launched myself in the other direction.

He was close. He was moving faster than I was. He was making a bee-line for my location.

 _Fuck._

He _shouldn't_ have been there—the village that we were headed towards was half a day's walk, at best.

I made a quick hand seal and released the weight from around my wrists and my ankles, fumbling mid-air for the second time in a one minute span, the sudden lightness of my limbs throwing off my centre of gravity. I forced myself to recover and pushed ahead at twice the speed I had been travelling at.

"Uh, Kakashi," I said, not missing the shake in my voice. "There's—there's a ninja coming, and he—he feels like he's a jonin, at least."

"How far behind you?"

"Thirty seconds," I answered. "He's… he's faster than I am."

"I'm on my way—just stay calm, alright, Kasumi?"

Calm was the exact _opposite_ of how I felt at that moment.

I let out a breathless laugh. "Easy for you to say."

Something about having an A-rank missing-nin on my tail lit a fire under my ass like nothing else and my legs carried me through the trees at speeds I had never imagined they were capable of reaching. I forced myself to focus on the chakra signature of Kakashi hurtling towards me instead of the signature of Zabuza that was gaining on me at a steady pace.

Zabuza was ten seconds behind me, at most, when I emerged from the forest and Kakashi came into sight, kunai in hand and Sharingan blazing, his chakra signature crackling with adrenaline.

He stood in the middle of a clearing, one which had no water within the vicinity.

 _What the fuck._

I hit the ground at a crouch, letting my knees fold with the impact. I stood again, opening my mouth to speak, when every hair on the back of my neck stood on end.

Panic jolted through my limbs, my adrenaline skyrocketed, my blood roared in my ears.

The yin chakra from my shadow slid over my skin of its own accord and I flung myself to the side, not caring about anything except getting out of the way as a sword bigger than my entire body sliced through the air in the exact spot in which I had stood. The ground scraped against the skin of my shoulder, rocks lodged themselves in the fresh wound, pain burned across the whole of my right arm, but I hadn't been turned into a human shish-kebab.

 _I was alive._

I pushed myself up into a sitting position, the yin chakra falling back into its place as my panic ebbed away again.

Kakashi had moved to occupy a chunk of my line of sight, turning himself into a human shield. Zabuza was across from him, his sword buried into the trunk of a tree and one hand settled on the hilt of it, his amusement tinged eyes boring into mine.

"Well, look at what we have here," he rumbled. "A wee little girl playing kunoichi and Kakashi of the Sharingan."

"How astute of you," Kakashi answered.

Zabuza yanked at the hilt of his sword, the bark cracking around the blade as it dislodged itself from the trunk and sunk into the ground at his side. "I suppose you're going to tell me you don't know where the bridge builder is, right?"

"Afraid so."

"Pity," Zabuza. "I'll just have to kill you both and go hunt him down myself—I doubt it'll be that hard. I can already smell the sake from here."

There was a spike in Zabuza's chakra and he rolled his shoulders, cracked his neck, opened his stance; killing intent spread out around him.

Being overwhelmed by killing intent felt the way that I assumed drowning did.

Thick, oozing energy, tainting the air you breathe and constricting your lungs, clogging your throat and weighing down your chest. It was copious and sticky, like tar seeping through your pores and coating your insides.

I choked as I attempted to inhale. My hand rose to my mouth, my throat. Tears sprang to my eyes.

 _I couldn't breathe._

Knowing why it was happening didn't do anything to lessen the shock and panic and discomfort. The chakra in my shadow curled upwards again, reacting to my distress, layering over my skin even as I tried to push it down.

"Kasumi, calm down. I'm not going to let anything happen to you—you're going to be _fine_."

 _Fine. Fine. Fine._

I forced myself to intake air around the killing intent, to centre myself, to relax.

 _Fine, fine, fine._

I forced myself to get up onto my feet.

 _Fine, fine._

I forced my knees to stay straight, to not wobble, to hold my weight.

 _Fine._

 _I was fine._

"Understood," I croaked.

Kakashi spared me a brief glance over his shoulder. "Good. Go regroup with the rest of the team."

The order to defend Tazuna went unsaid.

"Alright."

My legs felt like noodles, limp and uncooperative, tremors running through them as an after-effect of the killing intent, but I managed to work my way out of the clearing and into the forest, not missing the way that Zabuza's signature jolted in my direction and Kakashi's followed to intercept.

Zabuza wasn't stupid. He knew what was going on, what game we were playing at.

I felt around the forest and located Haku's signature hovering not far off, poised to interrupt the fight at any given moment, and Naruto and Sasuke and Tazuna's signatures, a half minute run off of my location and heading in my direction. If I were to guess, they were going against orders that Kakashi had given them.

Oh, _great_.

That was exactly what I wanted to deal with at that moment, another thing to add to the confusion and fear that was already clouding my thoughts.

It had begun to hit me that I didn't have a damn clue what was going to happen to Kakashi. None. Not a single idea. That was because the Wave Mission I had thus far experienced didn't in any way, shape, or form, match up with the one that ran through my head.

We had run into mercenaries, unlike what I recalled.

We had had an encounter with the Demon Brothers that was foreign to me.

We had met up with Zabuza at a different time, in a different location, and in a different manner.

Something was messing around with the events of this mission and it didn't take a genius to figure out what— _it was me_.

My presence had caused the entire damn mission to take on a new form and that thought did nothing to assuage the fear and apprehension that I felt about the situation, serving to worsen them instead. The knowledge I had could, for all intents and purposes, be thrown out the window for what use it would be to me.

I stopped in my tracks when the three of them entered my vision, Naruto and Sasuke running with Tazuna on the latter's back.

"What the hell are you two—"

"Kaka!"

Naruto ran forward, ploughing into me and wrapping his arms around my upper body in a bear-hug. Fire burned in my shoulder and I jerked back, a yelp escaping my lips. Naruto let go, jumping away with wide eyes, taking note of the injury to my shoulder.

Naruto opened his mouth to say something but Sasuke beat him to it, asking "Where's Kakashi?"

"He's back there," I said. "He's fighting a missing-nin."

"What?" Naruto cried. "Hey—we gotta go help him!"

"Uh, no we don't."

"We can't just leave him! What's with you?" he exclaimed, looking at me with narrowed eyes. "We have to help our teammate!"

"He's our teacher, not our teammate," I said, "and he's fully capable of helping himself."

 _Probably._

 _Hopefully._

"We still need to try and help," Naruto insisted.

"If we try and help him, Naruto, we're just going to get in the way," I said. "We should stay back here, let him fight for himself, and keep the client safe."

Naruto balled his fists at his sides, his chakra fluctuating. "No!"

He flew past me and took off in the vague direction of the fight.

"Naruto!"

"Idiot," Sasuke muttered.

For once, I felt no desire to correct him.

"I'm going to go after him," I said. "Can you stay—"

"I'm coming."

The desire to rip my hair out, however, was growing with each second that passed. "No! Kakashi ordered us to watch the client."

"I can do both," he said. "I'm not letting you and the idiot go do something stupid and jeopardize the mission."

"For fuck's sake— _fine_ , but you're carrying the client. I can't with my shoulder injured."

"Hn."

We didn't manage to catch up to Naruto. With my body still trembling from the after-effects of the killing intent and Sasuke weighed down by the body on his back, neither of us were in the condition required to make it in time.

I felt as Naruto's signature reached the epicentre of the battle, jolted at the sight, and sprung forward.

My blood ran cold.

Zabuza's signature twisted towards Naruto; Kakashi's signature twisted towards Naruto.

The three masses of chakra blended in a collision that blurred on my sense.

I pushed my legs harder, harder, harder, pulling ahead of Sasuke.

Another clash, a second, a third, a fourth. Both signatures were getting dimmer, lower, while Naruto's held at a steady pace behind Kakashi, always behind Kakashi. We were feet away when a third signature entered the fray and I watched the senbon pierce Zabuza's skin in the same second that I charged through the treeline.

All that was left to see was the aftermath.

Kakashi had one hand clamped down on his forearm to cover a nasty gash, blood leaking from various other points of his body, and a _very_ empty chakra system, but he was alive. Zabuza lay on the ground at his feet. Haku, with his mask covering his face and his fingers lined with senbon, stood in front of Kakashi, engaged in a low conversation with him.

Naruto was on the ground behind Kakashi, his eyes wide and locked on Kakashi's back and brimming with tears, but he wasn't my first concern at that moment because I could feel the faint flicker of Zabuza's chakra, marking him as alive, oh so alive.

I made a decision in that moment.

My hand reached down towards my kunai pouch.

We weren't playing around. Our mission wasn't a game. We were in a real field environment with real consequences to our actions. It was a life or death situation and throwing an A-rank ninja who could hold his own against our teacher and a prodigy with Ice Release into the mix tilted the scales further towards the latter. Worse was that, by that point, I knew that I was going in blind.

Fingers, slick with perspiration, curled around the grip of the kunai.

Could the mission have a happy ending, with all of us making it home safe and sound? That was possible. Could the mission go sideways—as was the long-running theme for Team 7—and leave all of us injured, dead, or permanently scarred? That was also possible—in that fact, I took issue.

The blade of the kunai scraped against the holster as I drew it.

I refused to face a possible death sentence when the solution to avoiding it was right in my face. There was no reason to take a chance if there was a way to get out of it. I knew that on my own, I couldn't take out Haku, I couldn't eliminate that threat, I couldn't give us that extra bit of safety—but Kakashi could. He was suspicious, that much I was certain hadn't changed. He knew that something was off. All I had to do was give the situation a push.

The weapon shook in my hand, my hold so tight that the lines of the leather wrapped around the grip of the kunai would be engraved in the skin of my palm.

I could do it. _I could do it._

Kakashi, from where he stood, noted the action, his uncovered grey eye darting over to me as his muscles tensed.

 _I would do it_.

I cocked an arm and threw the kunai, the tip zipping towards Zabuza's neck.

Haku moved to intercept the kunai in a flash of motion, batting it away with an outstretched hand. Kakashi followed him, striking like a viper—in one single, fluid movement, Kakashi had a kunai embedded into Haku's throat.


	16. Land of Waves: Part 2

_._

* * *

 _There are wounds that never show on the body that_

 _are deeper and more hurtful than anything that bleeds._

* * *

Kakashi staggered forward, empty handed.

Haku fell to the ground at his feet, a kunai jammed in the front of his neck and blood pouring from the wound in a waterfall of crimson. His head impacted with the ground and the mask tumbled off his face, revealing the visage of a boy who didn't deserve to die in as horrendous of a fashion as he would, choking on his own blood and bleeding out into the dirt. His eyes were wide and one hand fluttered around his throat, his feeble attempts at dislodging the weapon for naught.

Kakashi had a hint of pity in his eyes as he stooped down and finished the job, pulling another kunai from his holster and severing Haku's windpipe in a single jerk; all I could hear was gurgling while Haku struggled for a breath he was incapable of intaking.

My mouth burned with acid but I managed to fight down the vomit—Naruto and Sasuke both failed in that venture.

He was so young. _He was so fucking young._

A boy, a child, trapped in a world where those were a dime a dozen because reality crushed them underfoot without mercy. Up until that point, there were few times in my life as Kasumi Kurosawa where I felt _old_ , really, truly _old_ , the cumulative _old_ that my soul must have been—that was one of them.

Kakashi turned towards us, his feet stumbling over each other at the movement, and a cold dread settled in my gut. He was battling blood loss and chakra exhaustion and from the fluttering of his eyes, the bare shake in his hand, he was losing.

I jolted forward even as I knew I couldn't get there in time to catch Kakashi as he collapsed.

My mind pulled up every bit of first-aid that had been drilled into us while we were still at the Academy, one of the few things I had deigned to pay attention to and learn sooner rather than later. I fell to my knees at his side and ignored the quivering of my own hands, my fingers ripping off a chunk of fabric from the bottom of my tank top to use as a bandage— _why hadn't I packed first aid supplies, for fuck's sake, of all the things to forget_ —the information stored in my head warning me that I needed to patch up the gash on his arm; the amount of blood dribbling from the wound was a cause for concern.

There wasn't jack shit that I could do for his chakra exhaustion, but I could keep him from facing severe blood loss if I was diligent.

The injury to his arm was—thankfully—the lone major point of external damage. The other lacerations to his skin were nothing to scoff at but none of them were severe, either, not bleeding with enough fervour to warrant a risk to his life. I placed my hands on the bottom of my tank-top, prepared to further mutilate the shirt, when a jacket was tossed into my lap.

Naruto was standing at my shoulder, his eyes not yet dry and his arms bare.

"What—"

"Use that instead," he mumbled.

He had given me his jacket, _his favourite jacket_ , the one that he wore every single day of his life no matter what the weather, to dismantle and use as makeshift bandages cover the wounds of our teacher, wounds that he no doubt felt some level of responsibility for.

I nodded and ripped a massive strip of fabric off of the hem of the jacket.

I pulled from the cleanest part of it for the sake of keeping the wounds as sterile as possible—nine times out of ten, when a minor wound killed somebody, it was through infection rather than blood loss. None of the bandaging needed to hold for long as, the moment it was available to me, I would have to remove all of the wrappings and disinfect the wounds.

"What are we going to do with the bodies?" Sasuke asked.

I spared him a glance. His skin was pale and clammy but he was on his feet, staring at the corpse of Haku with barely contained revulsion.

"It's only one body right now," I answered, tying off the last of the bandages.

His expression tightened. "You mean—"

"The big guy's alive."

"What do we do?" Naruto asked.

I stood, brushing off the dirt from my pants with hands that refused to steady. "I'm going to clean up."

"Why you?" Sasuke asked. He turned to me with taunt shoulders and narrowed eyes, a challenge in his posture. "I'm capable of—"

"Don't throw a hissy fit, I'm not saying you can't do it, just that you aren't the best suited to do it," I snapped. My chest was tight and my lips were dry and I was in no mood for squabbling with a boy whose pride was rearing it's head. "I'm going to clean up while you and Naruto start heading towards Tazuna's house with him. Unlike either of you, I can track you while you move ahead and catch up with you later. Bitch at me later, if you have to, but you're not stupid—you know I'm right about this."

The clenching of his jaw and the tightening of his fists was all the confirmation I needed.

Sasuke _wasn't_ stupid. That fact was something he prided himself on, held over the heads of those around him, Naruto most of all. I knew that, when in doubt, shoving Sasuke into that corner was a somewhat-reliable way to bend him to my whims as taking an action deemed to be 'stupid', especially when said by somebody other than him, was one of the last things he'd want to do.

I held no qualms about manipulating a twelve-year-old for both his sake and my own when the need arose.

"I know where we are," Tazuna said. Of all of us, he was the least bothered by the overwhelming smell of blood, the sight of a dead body. "The house is this way."

Sasuke gave a curt nod and followed after Tazuna as he moved out of the clearing. Naruto went to mimic the movement but his feet halted as he brushed past me, his gaze lingering on my face, uncertain, nervous, scared.

He was shaking.

So was I.

That said, I had no plans of letting either of them deal with that mess. As much as I wanted them to know the reality of their world, their job, their lives, there was a line that separated a wake-up call from permanent mental scarring and, for a couple of twelve-year-olds, the snapping of a neck and the disposal of corpses via incineration crossed it.

I didn't want to do it either, not one bit, but it was my choice that landed us in that particular situation and the responsibility to fix things belonged on my shoulders and my shoulders alone, not theirs. I would have rather turned and walked away. I would have rather pretended none of it ever happened and kept going with the mission and not given it a second thought.

Neither of those were options, though. Zabuza had to be taken out of the picture. The bodies had to be cleaned up to avoid leaving evidence of the fight. The path I took and the actions I made had repercussions and I had to hike up my panties and deal with that.

I raised a hand to his shoulder and gave it a brief squeeze.

The group of three departed the clearing and I waited for their signatures to be a fair distance off before I approached the prone body of Zabuza, crouching behind his head.

His skin was cold against my palms as I placed one hand on his chin, the other behind his head, and, with a bit of chakra, simultaneously jerked his chin to the side and yanked back on his skull, snapping his neck clean in half in a single fluid motion. The sound, a sickening crack, echoed in my ears and shattered the silence that reigned over the clearing, reverberating with enough force that part of me wondered if Naruto and Sasuke and Tazuna might have been privy to it, far away as they were.

Dead.

 _One._

I had thought I felt old moments earlier—that sensation of being _old, old, old,_ compounded in on itself as in that moment, I became a killer.

Once again, I fought down the bile and acid that raced up my throat and threatened to spill out of my mouth.

At least with Haku it had been Kakashi to land the final blow. I had contributed, without a doubt, but my hands weren't the ones to grasp the kunai and spill the blood—the same couldn't be said about Zabuza. A voice in my head reminded me that there was a chance they both would have died in the future regardless of my contribution, but the fact that it was a chance, no longer a certainty, at that point, lessened the comfort.

Nothing was certain. _Nothing was certain_.

Pondering on whether things would have gone one way or another was useless because it didn't matter any longer. I had made my choice, I had dug my grave, and for better or for worse, I had to lie in it.

I took in a breath and forced myself to focus, ignoring the hollowness of my chest and the numbness of my fingers, the cold that froze my core and the haze that clouded my mind. My job wasn't done yet. There was work to do. I could cry, wallow, languish in the absurd level of shitty that I felt when there wasn't a duty that needed completing.

I needed to finish cleaning up. I needed to burn the bodies.

There was no water to toss them into. I had no jutsu I could use to bury the bodies. There were no scrolls on hand that were capable of containing organic materials. The only option was to cremate them and scatter the remains in hopes of lessening the potency of their scent.

I supposed it was lucky that Kakashi had deigned to teach me a katon jutsu following the conception of Team 7.

While Kakashi had demonstrated the jutsu to me as a fireball, through practice and what minimal information I had pulled from the instructional scroll, I had found it easier to expel the flames in a stream—that happened to be ideal for what I was about to do. The added properties that the fire gained from being produced by chakra rather than any natural means helped, as well, with the flames that the jutsu produced burning brighter and causing more destruction, having been designed to do so.

Ten minutes in, with the bodies halfway to becoming ash, with my chakra reserves dented, was when the stench of charred flesh overwhelmed my nose and forced me to give in to the urge to gag.

Finally, I vomited.

I made it to the tree-line, the place where it could most easily be covered up, and emptied out the contents of my stomach, keeling over and retching for more minutes that I cared to admit. Tears streamed from my eyes, all of the muscles in my body contracted on instinct. Even after my stomach had emptied I dry heaved, my body attempting to purge what was no longer there, my free-hand gripping onto the nearest tree-trunk for dear life and managing to keep myself standing.

A hand dragged across my lips, wiping them clean.

I kicked up some soil and covered it up, tossed a clump of moss atop it, and trudged back into the clearing.

Finishing the process of burning the bodies consumed half my chakra reserves and all of my self control, but even when all that sat at my feet was ash, charred bones poking out of the piles, I wasn't done.

 _The bones had to be disposed of and the ashes had to be dispersed and the rest of the vomit and blood had to be covered with dirt._

My knees gave in and I fell back onto the ground, but I wasn't done.

 _The bones had to be disposed of and the ashes had to be dispersed and the rest of the vomit and blood had to be covered with dirt._

Sobs racked my body and my hands were shaking, trembling, far beyond my control and with a mind of their own, blurred through the tears that pooled in my eyes, but I wasn't done.

 _The bones had to be disposed of and the ashes had to be dispersed and the rest of the vomit and blood had to be covered with dirt._

 _I wasn't done, I wasn't done, I wasn't done._

There was so much to do, so much to fix.

 _I wasn't done._

A hand rose to clamp over my mouth and muffle the sob.

 _I wasn't done. The bones had to be disposed of and the ashes had to be dispersed and the rest of the vomit and blood had to be covered with dirt. I wasn't done._

A minute on the ground turned into two, into three, ten, fifteen.

When there was no more water left in my system to cry I picked myself up and carried on.

.

.

I sat at the kitchen table, the sounds of Tsunami puttering around the kitchen, the cacophony of pots and pans and glass clinking together in a sink, serving as white noise to occupy the processes of my mind.

On the table in front of me sat a scroll that held one of Kirigakure's legendary swords.

Konoha protocol dictated that I leave no trace of the fight. There could be no corpses, no bodily fluids, and no weapons remaining once I departed from the scene, meaning that the giant butcher knife—which somehow qualified as a sword—couldn't remain the in the clearing without causing a major infraction.

I sealed it up and brought it with me; I had no desire to admit that I disregarded protocol, nor did I want to end up having to lie about it in a mission report. Thus, there it was, rolling back and forth on the kitchen table, an innocuous sight to any unknowing eye.

What Konoha would do with the sword, what I would do with the sword, was a massive question mark. I had settled on stashing it in my bag and forgetting about it for the foreseeable future, lacking the mental capacity to give anything more than a passing thought at that moment. I was exhausted, my muscles aching from having spent the entire day leaping through the trees and my mind in chaos, the image of a kunai ripping into flesh flashing over my sight, the sound of bones snapping echoing in my ears, the fetor of blood refusing to vacate my nostrils.

The scroll jumped an inch off the surface of the table as a bottle was slammed down beside it.

I jolted, straightening in the chair, my hand reaching to my kunai holster and my eyes widening on instinct. Tazuna stared back at me, his hand falling to his side.

He sat down at the table, landing in the chair across from me with a heavy thud. "This is all we have."

"Thanks." I swept both objects up and pushed my chair back, making it to the doorway of the kitchen before I paused, looking over my shoulder at him. "Also, for future reference: if you aren't suicidal, I don't suggest startling a ninja. We don't take kindly to it."

I disappeared before he could reply.

The house was small, old, and creaked with every step that I took, a constant rhythm of groans accompanying me as I walked up towards the room Kakashi and I were sharing. The stairwell was narrow, as was the hallway that greeted me upon reaching the top of it. One of the four beat-up doors that lined the walls was cracked open.

That was where I was headed.

Kakashi lay on top of the bed, comatose, his mask in place, his skin covered in a litany of bandages. Naruto stood at his side and stared down at the massive stretch of wrappings that lined Kakashi's forearm, his hands clenched into fists. His chakra was bubbling and swirling, as it always did whenever Naruto was upset.

"You should go downstairs and help Tsunami with dinner," I murmured, leaning my shoulder against the doorway as I watched him. "I'm sure she'd appreciate any help we can give her."

Naruto paid my words no mind, not even looking up at me. "How bad is he hurt?"

My head hit the frame as well. "He'll be in some pain from them when he wakes up, and he might have a couple new scars, but otherwise he'll be fine. I just need to replace the bandages and disinfect everything."

"They're my fault."

"They are," I agreed, my voice blank, my expression blank, my eyes blank.

His hands shook and the first of the tears began to fall. "I didn't—I didn't mean to… I just wanted to help, because that's what I'm supposed to do, right? I just wanted to help! He wasn't supposed to…" Naruto raised a hand to scrub at his eyes, his voice cracking. "He wasn't supposed to get hurt… I didn't help you, and you almost got hurt! So then I couldn't let that happen to Kakashi, because then I'd be a bad teammate but I just—but I just made it worse." His eyes, those gorgeous, glistening azure eyes, were clouded and dulled by the tears that had pooled in their rims. "I'm sorry… I'm sorry! I don't… I should've listened…"

A lump settled in my throat. There were no words I had to offer as a response.

Instead, I pushed off of the doorframe, walked around the bed and wrapped my arms around him in an embrace that was all the comfort I could give. Like before, I couldn't tell him it was okay, I couldn't say that it wasn't his fault. It wasn't okay and it was his fault. He knew that, though, had said as much himself, which was what really mattered—there was no reason for me to rub salt in the wounds.

Naruto made no move to return the hug. He stood there, head bowed, shaking, and cried until the sobbing settled down into sniffles.

When he was done I stepped back and nodded towards the door. "Go on," I said, rubbing at my own eyes. "Tsunami was just starting when I headed up here."

.

.

Night came and I didn't want to sleep.

The first half of the night was spent running around the forest, pushing my body, exerting myself beyond the bounds that I knew were healthy, until I lacked the energy to do more than stumble back to the house in a mindless stupor.

I showered. I sat on my bed in the room Kakashi and I were sharing. I stared out the window for an hour. I attempted to close my eyes. I saw the deaths replayed in front of my mind's eye, saw the smoke, saw the flames. I opened my eyes again. I stared out the window for another hour.

Something was missing. Some _one_ was missing.

There was nothing that could be done about that, though. I could ache for him all I wanted but it wouldn't change the fact that he wasn't with me, that he was back home, that he couldn't be there to hug me and run his fingers through my hair and talk down the horrors that haunted my thoughts.

I heaved a sigh, jumped off the bed, padded over to the bag that sat abandoned in the corner of the room and removed my pad of paper and drawing utensils from it.

He may not have been there to help me through the night, but there was another person in the house who was awake. Even if they weren't who I wanted and weren't somebody who would make any move to comfort me, weren't somebody that I would even want to try and comfort me, having somebody around was better than having nobody around.

The soft sounds of snoring greeted me as I pushed the door open and slipped into the room, closing it behind me. Naruto didn't react to my entrance at all, out cold on his cot; Sasuke shot me a sideways glance and a frown from where he sat on his bed, legs crossed under him, hands in his lap, poised in a meditative position.

His eyes stayed locked on me the entire way as I walked from the door to the window sill on the other side of the room, one which resembled the ledge that I had in my own room. A little narrower, lacking the plants, but with a clear view of the night sky, the stars, the moon, all the same.

I settled down and let the page consume my thoughts.

A couple of minutes passed in silence, save for the scratching of my pencil skating across the paper. The shaky outline of a head, a jawline, the contours of a nose, rough shape of the eyes.

"What are you doing in here?"

"You don't have to whisper," I murmured. "He sleeps like the dead."

"Answer my question," he pushed.

The lips, thin, tipping up at the corner.

"Why are you still awake?" I threw back at him, my eyes darting up and my eyebrow raising.

"I'm still awake in my room."

The edges of hair spiking out from a ponytail at the back of his head.

"I can't sleep," I said. My shoulders rose in a shrug. "You weren't asleep either."

Sasuke grunted and closed his eyes again, returning to his meditation.

I kept up my sketch, letting the familiar sounds of snoring and the familiar chakra signature a few feet away lull my nerves. I didn't expect to get any significant amount of sleep that night, truth be told, more I was hoping to manage a few hours of uninterrupted rest, knowing that the nightmares were inevitable—stress and trauma were a nasty combination.

I shaded the hair with long strokes, feather touches of the pencil.

"Who is that?"

I paused and cast him another glance. "My guardian."

He blinked. His face didn't change, nor did he say anything else, but I felt his chakra ripple and I got the distinct sense that I had surprised him with the answer.

The finished image stared back at me. A languid half-grin, relaxed posture, his back propped up against a tree and a book open in his lap, a few of the deer meandering in the background. It helped to have a vision of home, in some ways, but in others, it felt as if the ache had become more poignant rather than less.

I flipped the page and began anew, decorating the blank canvas with a different visage. Long hair that swept down her shoulders, down her back, much like my own. The gentle smile that I imagined her to wear stretched her lips and dimpled her cheeks, reaching all the way up into her eyes, which I knew without question were a rich caramel, though I lacked the tools to colour them as such. Her hands were clasped in front of her. The image was one I had drawn with such frequency that I could have completed it in my sleep.

Sasuke studied me the entire time in silence.

He hadn't asked the question I could tell he wanted to by the time I had put the finishing details on the sketch.

"It's my Mama," I said, my attention not straying from the pad in front of me, my legs drawn inwards and the page balancing on my knees. "As well as I can remember her, I mean."

The words were unbidden, slipping past my lips before I could fully register what I was saying, though I couldn't bring myself to care by that point—whether I would feel the same in the morning was questionable.

Again, Sasuke took the words without offering any of his own.

I wasn't bothered as I hadn't expected him to. It seemed that unless there was mocking to be done or questions to be asked or demands to be made, Sasuke was a person of few words.

Ignoring the leaden feeling of my limbs I closed up the sketch pad and stepped down, stretched my arms above my head. The sun would be up in three hours, at which point I would be accompanying Tazuna to the bridge to keep watch on him and the workers, something that would be easier if I got the chance to rest even a couple of hours. Going days without sleep was possible for me but it wasn't preferable, not when I would need my senses sharp and functional the next day.

"I'm going to sleep," I said. "You should too."

"Hn."

"Seriously."

"Hn."

"Fine, whatever."

"Hn."


	17. Land of Waves: Part 3

_._

* * *

 _It is not only for what we do that we are_

 _held responsible, but also for what we do not do._

* * *

I twirled my spoon around the bowl of soup, my eyes drifting off to stare at the still-dark morning sky. An untouched cup of tea—green and with a hint of honey—sat on the kitchen table in front of me, wisps of steam curling off its surface.

"How's your teacher doing?"

I turned to look at Tazuna, not stopping the absent motion of my hand. "Alright. He's at no risk of bleeding out and isn't showing any sign of infection."

The sounds of utensils scraping against bowls and food being chewed droned on in the background, Sasuke and Tsunami both in the process of finishing their meals as well. Naruto was upstairs, sound asleep, as he was staying behind for the day to help Sasuke keep watch on the house.

Aside from a brief, half-second glance at Inari the night prior, he had avoided us like the plague, remaining holed up in his room during dinner and refusing to come down for breakfast, despite the fact that his chakra signature indicated that he was awake.

It was probably for the best.

"Why hasn't he woken up yet?" Tazuna asked around a bite of his breakfast.

"Chakra exhaustion," I answered. "If we're lucky, he'll come around again today, but I doubt it. It'll probably at some point tomorrow that he wakes up."

"Great. Guess I'm just stuck with you brats for now, then."

"Sucks to suck," I muttered.

A tired, half hearted scoff sounded to my right; Sasuke was staring down at his plate but there was the ghost of a smirk tugging at his lips.

"Which one of you is coming with me?" he asked.

"I am," I said. "Sasuke and Naruto agreed to take charge of watching the house while I go with you to the bridge."

There had been, to my surprise, no resistance from either of the boys when I proposed that arrangement the night prior. Naruto didn't seem eager to protest _anything_ I said at this point and, somehow, Sasuke had had no desire to spend any extended amount of time alone with Tazuna—who would have guessed?

"We're leaving in fifteen minutes," Tazuna told me. "I want to be there before the heat gets too bad."

"Got it." I pushed back from the table. "I need to go get changed and finish packing, then. I'll be back down in a few minutes."

My feet had carried me halfway to the entrance of the kitchen when Tsunami called, "Kasumi."

"What?" I asked, turning to look at her.

Her lips had pulled down into a slight frown and the lines around her eyes had tightened, her gaze shifting between my dishes and my face.

"Was the soup not to your liking?" she asked. "You barely touched it last night, as well."

I blinked. "It—no, it was fine. I'm just not hungry."

She appeared unconvinced. "Is that all?"

 _No_. "Yeah, honest."

"If that's the case, I'll pack it for you," Tsunami said. She abandoned her own breakfast and gathered up what I had left of the meal. "You can bring it with you for later."

"It's fine, I can eat when I get back."

She turned her attention back to me and stared me down with hard eyes. "I insist," she said, a heat and vehemence in her voice that had me biting back any further refusal. "It'll only take a moment. I'll have it ready for you when you come back down."

I nodded and continued on my way upstairs.

Packing the rest of my things into my bag was a short affair. I threw extra bandages—just in case—into the front pockets, extra water bottles and ration bars into the main pouch, my drawing pad into the middle nook, and emergency money into the inside zipper. There was some distance to walk so I did my best to pack light.

With that accomplished I slipped off my pajamas and redid the bandage that covered the top half of my arm, double checking the wound for any sign of infection. The mesh had taken the brunt of the damage, leaving the garment with a chunk of exposed ninja wire that had lost its fabric covering to show for it, but a wound was a wound and I figured it was better to be safe than sorry.

A t-shirt and a pair of shorts went overtop a layer of mesh, my kunai holster found its place on my thigh, and I was ready to go.

I opened the door to the room and took a step back, startled, when I found Sasuke waiting for me in the hallway. His face was set and his shoulders were squared and there was something clenched in his fist.

"What—"

"Take these," he said and shoved a couple of ration bars into my hands.

The packaging crinkled in my grip. They were the same as what I had stowed away in my bag, some of the higher grade bars made by the Akimichi.

I frowned. "I've got some already packed."

"Then eat these ones too."

"I don't need to, I've got enough—"

"You skipped dinner and breakfast," Sasuke said.

"I wasn't hungry."

His scowl, ever present on his face, intensified. "You not taking care of yourself is a danger to the mission."

The words sent a jolt through my system; my fingers locked in place where they were curled around the ration bars and my back stiffened.

"Look, it's fine—"

"It's not."

I could stand there and argue with him or I could accept defeat for the sake of my peace of mind.

"Thanks," I muttered and shoved the bars into my pack.

Sasuke gave a jerky nod, hands sliding into his pockets. He stared at me for a couple of seconds. Then, he nodded again and turned on his heels, slinking down the hall to his own room.

.

.

Walking through the village for the first time was an experience.

The streets were filthy, with so much garbage and rotten food littering the ground that the stench permeated every breath I took in, a layer of grime coating every inch of the pavement. Shops were closed and boarded up. There were people begging for food on every corner, the desperation of their situation painted clear across their gaunt faces.

"How long has it been like this?" I asked.

"The village?" he grunted in return.

"Yeah."

Tazuna heaved a sigh, a hand rising to rub at his chin. "Few years? Five, at most. It was gradual, at first, when he first started taking over the trade routes. He only took a small section at first. Nobody was happy about it, but nobody thought to stop him, not even when it began to inch outwards. Then out of nowhere he swept up the rest and got a full stranglehold on the whole industry… everything just went downhill from there."

"And now he's starving everybody out."

"Slowly but surely," he confirmed. "He keeps people who're useful to him alive, gives them extra food and other supplies. Anybody else just has to get along as best they can."

"I'm assuming you don't fall into that category."

"Not by a long shot."

As much as I hated Tazuna for the position he had put us in I had to admit that, to some extent, I felt a grudging respect towards him for having the guts to stand up against a tyrant when he just as easily could have kept his head down. There was still a part of me—a very, very large part of me—that wanted to punch him in the face for the position he had put our team in, but at least walking through that village, seeing the dire reality that the people of Wave were facing with my own eyes, I could understand what motivated him to do what he did.

Sometimes, you had to fuck somebody else over for the sake of the ones you loved.

.

.

I sat on the bridge, legs crossed and eyes shut, monitoring the area through my chakra sense.

There was no high ground available for me to keep watch from, no hidden niche I could set up camp at while I kept watch. It had my nerves sparking some, but I managed to reign them in without much issue.

I was somewhat confident that the day would go off without a hitch. With how little time had passed, Gato would have recently become aware that Zabuza and Haku had failed, if he even knew at all, leaving little chance for him to have scrounged up somebody to send in their stead. If he was going to send more ninja to kill Tazuna he'd do it the next day or the day after and I intended to be around when that happened.

I needed to know who he sent—more specifically, how _strong_ they were. Whoever he sent as a followup to Zabuza and Haku would be telling of what type of ninja connections he had.

Gato was a corrupt business man, not a ninja, and I doubted that he was capable of comprehending the differences in strength that were present among ninja. Few people who lived this far off from the villages could. Case in point, he genuinely believed that a collection of civilian thugs and a couple of low-level ninja would be capable of taking down Zabuza and Haku. It might have worked with Haku, as they could have overwhelmed him, but Zabuza? Not a chance. That was obvious to anybody with half of a brain and any experience with ninja to draw on.

There was an unpredictability to Gato in that he could afford to throw jonin after jonin our way, but that he could end up sending mere genin out of ignorance.

The sound of my stomach growling snapped me back to reality, the cold gnawing in my belly hitting me in full force. I turned my gaze up to the sun, which was beginning to start its descent towards the horizon and marked the time as past noon, past when I should have eaten.

I reached for my bag, removed the tin, removed the spoon, and forced the liquid down mouthful by mouthful. When it didn't make a reappearance, the ration bars followed. It all tasted like ash. I didn't let myself spit any of it out, though. I choked down every last bit and hoped that my stomach wouldn't reject it.

I _had_ to keep it together. I _had_ to keep myself in top condition.

I was fine.

My eyes fell across the various men gathered, working to save their home. My mind conjured up images of Naruto, Sasuke, Kakashi.

There were more lives at risk than my own if I slipped up, misstepped, and cracked under the pressure.

 _I was fine._

.

.

The house was silent when Tazuna and I returned.

Naruto was training out front, Sasuke was buzzing around on the edge of my chakra sense, Tsunami was somewhere upstairs, and Inari had wandered off to who knew where in his quest to avoid any and all contact with the rest of us. Everything was as I had expected to find it, a small comfort.

I slid my shoes off, tossing them onto the mat, and padded into the kitchen. Tazuna did the same and headed straight for the stairs behind me, thudding towards the upper levels of the house. I rinsed out the dishes, discarded the ration bar wrappers, and made myself a cup of tea that I doubted I would drink, flitting around the room more on habit than anything else. Even so, the tea came with me, sloshing back and forth as I climbed the staircase.

My destination was the bedroom Kakashi and I were sharing, as it was my turn to check his bandages and replace them if necessary. I was standing at the door, my hand closed around the doorknob, when the sight of Tsunami pacing caught my eye, one hand splayed across her forehead and the other wrapped around her midsection. She was muttering to herself, whispered nothings that were too faint for my ears to catch even as I strained them.

I let my fingers slip off the brass, my hand fall to my side.

Tsunami didn't look up as I pushed the door open and took a step into the room. "Is something going on?" I asked.

Her head snapped up to look at me. "What, I—no dear, of course not." Her eyes flicked up to the clock that hung on the wall of the room and back to me. "It's nothing. I should really be starting on supper."

She gave me a tight smile and brushed past me on her way out, patting my shoulder as she did.

I let her go.

There were a million and one reasons that Tsunami had to be worried and anxious, all of which fell under the category of 'not my business'. I was there to complete my mission, not pry into their personal lives.

I closed the door shut behind me, crossed the hallway, and got down to the actual reason I had headed up stairs in the first place: nurse duty.

The rebandaging and disinfecting of the remnants of Kakashi's wounds took all of half an hour to complete. Once finished, I secured the last of Kakashi's bandages with a small sigh, rocking back on my heels to judge my work—it was sloppy but functional, which was enough for me. Besides, Sasuke would be fixing them in the morning, so my haphazard job didn't need to last for that long.

He was healing well, with no sign of infection and the mending process of the wounds moving along nicely, something that I had chalked up more to the fantastic healing properties of chakra rather than my or Sasuke's bandaging capabilities. The big gash, the one I suspected Kakashi sustained trying to block a blow meant for Naruto, would leave a jagged scar along the skin of his forearm, but the rest would heal and fade without anything to show for it.

Even without the full extent of my chakra sense, I could feel the shift in his chakra, conglomerating around the wounds that littered his skin as it circulated through his body. ninja healed at an accelerated rate even without the aid of medical ninjutsu. It wasn't absurd, mind, but it was noticeable, which was the only reason ninja lived through half the shit that they did.

I walked over to my bed and collapsed on top of it, ignoring the heaviness of my eyelids and the stiffness of my limbs.

Whether or not the chakra-boosted healing would be adequate nagged at my thoughts.

Gato could have been sending enemies our way the next day. I would be able to evacuate the men on the bridge, I was certain of that, but having a jonin around would go a long ways to easing my frayed nerves. Yet, with how low Kakashi's chakra reserves were even after a day of rest, I was questioning my previous claim that he would be awake at some point the next day, not to mention what state he would be in if he did. He wouldn't be in any condition to engage in a serious fight without another few days of bedrest to allow for his chakra reserves to reach a respectable size and his skin to finish stitching itself back together.

He would get there eventually, but until then, we were on our own.

We had to figure things out for ourselves.

A hand rose to finger the messy, unkempt braid that my hair had been pulled back into since the previous morning, strands of auburn flying loose and swishing around my shoulders—I couldn't be bothered to weave them back into place.

"Hey! Hey, Kaka! Come on, dinner's ready!" Naruto called, the words muffled and garbled by the door.

I gave one last look at our teacher before I hauled myself upright and padded out of the room.

.

.

I took a bite of the soup, the taste identical to that of what we had eaten this morning and the night before, sweet, a vague hint of some meat tinting the broth, and stared out the minuscule square window imprinted into the wall above the sink.

The only upside I had found in the Land of Waves so far were the gorgeous sunsets.

Luminous pinks and purples and oranges spilling out over the azure expanse, greeting the sun as it dropped below the horizon and ushered in the night. There were sunsets like that in Konoha, of course, but there was something about being away from home that made the sight of it all the sweeter, a sort of foreign mystique that I couldn't quite shake as I feasted my eyes upon it.

The day had come and gone without incident.

Sasuke detected no suspicious persons in and around the forest, Naruto didn't see anybody come within eyeshot of the property, I hadn't come across anybody while guarding the bridge. I doubted that would last through the next day, so I took the chance to let my shoulders droop and my mind unwind itself from the mental knots it was running itself into. I let myself take a minute to breathe.

"Inari should have been back by now."

The spoon fell from my fingers and my heart skipped a beat; ice coursed through my veins. If there had been any soup left in my mouth I had no doubt I would have choked on it.

 _What?_

Tsunami was wringing her hands, eyes flicking from the empty chair beside her to the front door of the home, a palpable wave of anxiety rolling off of her. The air around the dinner table grew stifling, her words sending both the boys and myself into high alert.

 _No._

It didn't take a genius to discern the implication of her words—which, given the fact that I hadn't bothered to account for the safety of Inari and Tsunami, hadn't even _considered_ that they might become targets in my own machinations, I felt I was the exact opposite. Leaving Naruto and Sasuke behind to guard the home had been a formality in my mind, a 'what if' scenario that I hadn't given a passing thought.

 _No._

 _It couldn't be._

"When did he leave?" I asked her.

"I—I'm not sure," she murmured in a trembling voice. "I left to go get groceries during the early afternoon, and by the time I returned, he had already left for the day."

I turned my attention to the boys.

"I was scouting in the forest most of the day," Sasuke said.

Naruto squirmed in his seat. "I dunno… it was, uh… maybe around noon?"

"So roughly six hours ago," I said. "A lot of distance can be covered in six hours."

"He's not allowed to go far and he has to be back in time for dinner. He _knows_ that."

"Either way, he's nowhere in a six kilometre radius," I said.

There was no trace of Inari on my chakra sense. If he was on his way back to the house I would have been able to sense him. Either he had started walking in the opposite direction of the house and never stopped, or there was something preventing him from coming home.

I hoped for the prior but expected the latter was the reality of the situation.

The thought had me shoving away a rush of nausea.

"He's probably fine, right Kaka?"

I clenched my fists so hard that my nails engraved eight well-formed crescent shapes into the skin of my palms. "I'm going to go and scout around," I said. "Can you send out some clones, Naruto? We'll cover more ground that way."

"Uh, yeah—yeah, of course."

"I'm coming," Sasuke said.

I waved a hand at him, a vague, nonverbal way of expressing my assent. I couldn't be bothered to stop him.

We departed in silence without delay.

The first place we investigated was the path that led towards the village. It was a desolate, winding road, made up of dirt and lined by forest on one side and the ocean shore on the other, the perfect place to snatch up a child without witness. I had no training in tracking, nor did Sasuke. The Academy didn't cover it. Instead, we were forced to rely on my charka sense and the child-sized footsteps imprinted into the dirt every so often, what of them hadn't been swept away and buried in dust by the breeze that rolled off of the ocean.

We didn't have to go far, though. The sense of dread, which had begun to build the second we'd left the house, swelled when I spotted a blue and white striped hat that lay discarded in the middle of the road, crumpled and stained.

I jerked to a stop, my eyes glued ahead of me.

 _No._

 _It wasn't supposed to be like this_.

Seeing it there, with no hint of Inari's chakra signature in the general vicinity, was a punch in the gut that I had attempted to, and failed at, steeling myself for. The minuscule ray of hope that I had held wilted in the face of reality.

It had been left behind as a message, waiting there for us whether we found it that evening or stumbled upon it on the way into the village the next morning.

The placement of the hat was deliberate and unnatural, as if it had been set down rather than knocked off. More than that, Inari would have picked his hat back up. He had been wearing it the one time that I had seen him. He wore it in all of the pictures that were littered around Tazuna's home. He wouldn't have left it behind.

"That's his hat," Sasuke said.

"Yeah," I said. "That's his hat."

I closed the distance between myself and the hat.

There were no obvious traps. No explosive notes, no chakra that I could sense. I stooped down and lifted up the hat, revealing a note that had been left beneath it. I forced my hand to steady when I reached out and plucked the note up off the ground, holding it between my thumb and my forefinger, my breath catching in my throat as I read what was on it.

"What does it say?" Sasuke asked, an edge in his words.

My voice shook as I read out, "It's either the bridge or the boy, your choice."


	18. Land of Waves: Part 4

_._

* * *

 _It's a lot easier to be angry at_

 _someone than it is to tell them you're hurt._

* * *

Naruto sat on the front porch, hands resting on his kneecaps and his leg shaking to an erratic beat. The hesitant optimism painted across his features crumpled into oblivion when he saw Sasuke and I approach with the hat in hand. In an effort to preserve what scant bits of the assailant's scent might have still lingered on the slip of paper I stashed the note in the crown of the hat; the words imprinted on the note rolled through my mind on loop, a sick concert dedicated to broadcasting the consequences of my actions in the one place that I couldn't escape it.

"You… you didn't find him," Naruto murmured.

I shook my head. When I was close enough, I linked my fingers through his own—I needed to take hold of something real, something warm, it wasn't exactly who I wanted but that was okay because somebody was better than nobody and Naruto was _far_ from nobody—and led him inside, Sasuke following at our heels.

Tazuna and Tsunami both sat at the table waiting for us.

Tazuna and Tsunami both started crying when they saw us.

I sat down across from Tsunami, Naruto settling down on one of my side and Sasuke on the other. The hat remained in my grip even as I could see Tsunami yearn to take hold of it. I didn't blame her. She wanted to touch that soiled hat, feel the fabric along the pads of her fingers, for the exact same reason my own hand refused to detach from Naruto's.

When you were on the point of breaking, having an anchor to keep you rooted in this world was the difference between remaining whole and shattering.

Tsunami broke; I did not break.

My throat itched to scream at the sky in frustration, my eyes burned to shed tears, because a boy was being held hostage by a mob boss and it was _my fault_ , if I had just let things run their course _he'd be okay_ , he could end up dead because _I was selfish,_ but I pulled in the pieces of my composure and held them together for dear life. I forced out a breath instead of a scream and forced my eyes to remain dry.

I was fine.

My fingers unwound from around Naruto's and both hands moved to pinch the brim of the hat shut.

 _I was fine._

"He's being held hostage," I said. "The note says: it's either the boy or the bridge, your choice."

Tazuna's hand slammed down against the table. "What?"

"Oh, Kami…" Tsunami choked out, fingers clamped over my mouth. "No…"

"You—you can get him _back_ , right?" Tazuna asked.

"Maybe."

"Maybe?"

I rested my elbows on the table and twined together my fingers, laying my forehead against my joined hands. "It's not so simple," I mumbled. My head ached. "The choice isn't up to us 'cause our teacher is our commanding officer."

"He didn't leave any of us in charge," Sasuke noted. "None of us have the authority to alter the set mission objective."

"What, we—really?" Naruto asked. "Come on we… we gotta be able to do something!"

"The approach we take to this situation will be up to Kakashi," I said.

"Inari isn't a 'mission objective'," Tazuna spat. "He's a _child—"_

His words stopped cold when I tilted my head up to meet his gaze with blank eyes. "So he is," I responded. "But as ninja, out on a mission, we're bound by mission objectives."

"That's it, then?" Tazuna asked. "You all have to wait around for your teacher to wake up while he's—he's _Kami knows where_?"

"He would have to either way," I said. "The three of us aren't enough to get him back. We don't know what kind of forces he has with him, we don't know how he might react, and we don't even know _where_ he is, or if he's even keeping Inari that close to him. Not to mention having to plan an infiltration."

I raised my hand to rub at my temples and wished they would stop shaking.

"There's nothing we can do?" Naruto asked.

"We need Kakashi," I murmured. "This… this is too big for us."

We needed Kakashi to track down Inari. We needed Kakashi to plan out the best approach for getting into wherever we needed to get Inari. We needed Kakashi to plan out the best path to get Inari. We needed Kakashi to lead the charge through the building like the human bulldozer that jonin are. We needed Kakashi to be there in case things went wrong.

 _We needed our teacher._

There was no way for us to go into that situation and not be put our lives at a severe risk, something which I refused to do no matter how much guilt I felt over the matter. I had my role in things, but I wasn't the lone bearer of blame—Kakashi and Tazuna each had their own stake. I would feel awful, terrible, _disgusted with myself_ if Inari died over this, but I wouldn't let that potential outcome spur me into doing something stupid and impulsive that would put all of our lives in danger.

"You could give up the bridge," Sasuke said.

"We… this _country_ can't afford that. There has to be another way."

"What if there isn't?" I asked. "What if there's no way for us to attempt a retrieval?"

Tazuna looked at his hands and didn't say a word.

"You'd leave him there?" Tsunami cried.

"I didn't say that—"

"You didn't _not_ say it."

When he refused to meet her gaze or respond, Tsunami shoved her chair back with enough force to send it flying into the wall and fled the table. Tazuna followed after her.

The exchange went about as well as I had assumed it would. I blew out a haggard breath.

I needed to do _something_. Sitting around would drive me to insanity and, tired as I was, going to sleep wasn't appealing to me. I had steam to let off, nerves to smooth, emotions to vent.

I stood up and left without a word, the door of the house slamming shut behind me as I stepped out into the muggy summer air, the temperature not dulled by the absence of the sun. Konoha had a dry heat, but in the Land of Waves, with how close they were to the water, the air was humid and uncomfortable, the feeling of it washing over me, not unlike a snake slipping down my back.

The spot I chose wasn't far into the forest, half a kilometre away from the house at most. It was enough distance that I felt like I could _breathe_ , but not so far that I wouldn't be able to get back to the house in a reasonable time should the need arise.

I picked a nice tree, one with a sturdy, expansive trunk, and started hitting it.

I treated it like a training dummy, aiming blow after blow at the bark, watched it chip off and flake onto the ground at my feet. I punched, I kicked, I kneed. The longer I went on the more vicious and harsh my strikes became, the more the skin on my knuckles was cut and the more that the ninja mesh along my legs, the only barrier between my calves and the tree, tore away into wire.

It hurt. It hurt _a lot_.

The method was crude but, at that moment at least, successful. The world around me sharpened into a painful clarity and anything except the immediate faded from my thoughts, lost in a haze of unimportance. There was nothing for me to be concerned about, nothing that I had to be responsible for. I was able to exist in a bubble of blissful ignorance and it felt fantastic; I hated every second of it.

I froze when I heard two sets of footsteps sound behind me, one hand remaining planted against the trunk of the tree. I knew the gaits, the chakra signatures.

"Hey, hey! Kaka!" Naruto called as he approached, Sasuke trailing a few metres behind him with a frown on his face. "What're you doing… hey, your hand's bleeding!"

I took a step back from the tree and raised one of my hands up to inspect it, blood oozing out of the torn skin of my knuckles. It stung—both of my hands did, my legs as well. The muscles in my body were stiff and sore, my limbs ached from sleep deprivation and the sudden burst of activity.

"It's fine," I said. "It doesn't really hurt."

Sasuke narrowed his eyes at the blood and his frown darkened into a glower. I ignored him.

"Eh, really?" Naruto asked.

I gave a noncommittal shrug. "What're you two doing out here?"

"I just… uh… just wanted to come see what you were doing—so did he."

"I'm just training."

"Oh."

I looked to my hands again, and my gaze travelled down to my legs, the minor abrasions that had scratched at my skin through the mesh. They needed to be cleaned out and bandaged.

"I'm done, I think," I said. "Come on, let's go. We should probably get back."

* * *

The first thing I registered upon waking up was that I wasn't the only conscious person in the room.

I rubbed at my eyes as I sat up in bed, felt the bags that framed them brush against the skin of my hands—four hours of turbulent sleep wasn't enough to dispel them. That was fine. I felt fine.

Kakashi was propped up against the wall behind his bed, his little orange book opened in front of him and a pillow on his lap to cushion it. His shoulders were relaxed, his eyes half-lidded, but the charge in his chakra signature—it reminded me of lightning bouncing around a glass jar—betrayed him.

He looked okay, save for the bandages poking out from beneath his clothes. His skin had regained some of its colour, his hands were steady, and he showed no visible signs of pain, for what little credence the last one had with ninja. I knew from having looked over his injuries the night prior, though, that he required proper medical attention, not the inadequate bandage and cleaning jobs that Sasuke and I had provided him with so far. He wasn't in dire condition, but he could be doing far better.

"You're already reading porn," I mumbled, running my fingers over my hair to flatten out some of the wisps that had flown away. "Nice."

He turned his face to look at me, eyebrow raised up. "What else would I be doing?"

"Not reading porn."

"Mhm." Kakashi shifted his attention back to the book and flipped the page. "Is there any reason why the woman in the room across from us has spent the last two hours crying?"

"Probably has something to do with the fact that her son is currently in the possession of a crime boss who's made a threat against his life."

His hand stilled.

I rolled out of bed and avoided wincing at the stiffness in my joints, the sudden jolt that ran through my legs when my feet hit the ground. I walked over to my pack and pulled out a fresher set of clothes that I could change into.

"It sounds like there are things we need to talk about," Kakashi said.

"To put it lightly." I looked at him out of the corner of my eye. "You missed a lot while you were out."

If the subtle jab elicited a hint of a wince from Kakashi, a twitch of his face, the stiffening of his shoulders, I chose to ignore it. I felt entitled to at least one bitter comment.

"So it seems," he answered, his voice revealing nothing. He flicked the page again, not that I believed he was reading the book in front of him anymore. "Why don't you bring Naruto and Sasuke in here? We need to have a team discussion."

"Alright."

I wandered out of the room, clothes in hand, and told myself that everything was fine.

.

.

Kakashi watched her walk out of the room and felt like a failure, more so than he had in recent memory.

 _He_ was the one who had made the wrong call with continuing the mission instead of leaving when things went awry. _He_ was the one who got arrogant, careless, thinking that there was nobody that their enemy could throw at him and come out victorious. _She_ was the one who suffered for it.

He didn't need his genius to figure out that something was wrong with his student.

Everything about Kasumi was blank. Her eyes were dead, her voice lacked inflection, and her face was expressionless. There were bags that encompassed much of her eye sockets. Her shoulders hunched and her movements were sluggish. When she spoke to him Kakashi caught the hint of gauntness in her features and the fact that, even in just a few days, she had lost some weight, which was proof enough that the poor eating habits she had displayed during the trip to Wave had worsened rather than improved upon reaching their destination. The bandages along both of her hands and the bottoms of her legs didn't escape his notice, either—whatever training she had been doing was harsh and careless, resulting in injuries that he knew her to avoid most days.

The attempts he made to reconcile the person who walked out of the room with the student he recalled were unsuccessful. She had been a handful, nothing that he expected her to be, but she had been full of personality and attitude and _life_ , things that she lacked then. The person who he saw had a closer resemblance to a corpse. He had figured that out of the three of his students, she would be the one to deal with stress the best, but that theory wasn't holding up in the slightest.

The sounds she made while she slept served to twist the knife, so to speak, as he listened to her whimper and murmur in the subdued way that those with copious experiences with nightmares often did. He couldn't guess at what exactly she was seeing, but he assumed it had taken place after he passed out from chakra exhaustion.

Kakashi may have known that he would fail his students, one way or another, but he _hadn't_ known that it would bother him. His arrogance and inability to protect his own students had caused one of them to be reduced to a husk—the thought that the other two had suffered likewise stung a part of him that Kakashi didn't know could still feel pain. He thought he had buried it and left it to rot.

Self-loathing Kakashi could deal with. The rekindling of whatever the hell _else_ he was feeling? No, that he could do without.

He didn't want to bond with these children, didn't want to be in a position where he could care for them, didn't want to face that danger—that was all it was to him. It was dangerous. More than not _wanting_ it, Kakashi didn't _need_ it. He was beyond needing a team, he had been for more years than he cared to count. That was in his past. His ANBU squads were one thing as they could all care for themselves, and Kakashi could forget their loss as easily as he could forget the masks they wore. Three children, with faces and identities and names, were a whole other matter.

Not a soul in the village would forget the lives of these children if they were lost, Kakashi included.

He leaned his head back against the headboard and heaved a sigh. "This better be worth it, Minato."

.

.

I combed my fingers through my dampened hair to clear it of its snags and knots.

Putting on a cleaner set of clothes reminded me that I hadn't had an actual shower in over a week, prior to our leaving the village. Minor washings in stray bodies of water when we came across them during the trip from the village was as close as I had gotten, which didn't involve shampoo or soap or an extended amount of time spent rinsing the grit and grime from my skin.

I didn't linger in the shower. I rushed through the basics in the five minutes I had allotted myself, scrubbing every inch of my body with fervour, and jumped out again. There was a fleeting part of me that wanted to stand under the hot water for hours and hours and hours, but my more reasonable desires won out, the ones that were intent on getting back to the actually important matters—figuring out what the hell was going to happen next.

Sasuke was awake when I entered their room, but Naruto was out cold. There was no kind way to wake Naruto up. I gave a partial, distracted nod to him and made my way to Naruto's bedside, staring down at him as he slept.

"Naruto," I said, so I could say that I did _try_. No response. "Naruto."

I led a bit of chakra to my fingertips, a minuscule amount, the barest spark, and poked him in the ribs with it.

He jolted at the contact and gave a garbled cry of shock, floundering in his covers. "Ah! What—what's happening?"

"Kakashi is awake," I said. I stepped back and threw a look at Sasuke. "He wants to talk to all of us. Don't bother getting dressed, just come on."

"He's up?" Naruto slurred.

He rolled out of his bed and fell to the floor in a heap, the lump that he was under his blankets not moving from its spot on the ground.

"He's isn't out of bed, but he's conscious," I said.

Sasuke's back stiffened. "How bad is he?"

"Hard to say," I answered. I angled my body to bring him into my line of sight. "His chakra seems fine, decently full. He might need crutches, but he should be able to move around today. He just can't do any major fighting yet."

Naruto, not yet awake enough to absorb the meaning of those words, gave no outward reaction except to scratch his head and blink at the two of us. Sasuke's face tightened.

There would be issues if Gato had any high-level ninja guarding Inari. Some civilians and genin wouldn't be a problem, as even an injured Kakashi could handle those in his sleep, not to mention what the three of us were capable of, but it could get dicey if there was anybody there of chunin or jonin level.

Kakashi set his book down in his lap as we trooped into the room. He had the same bored expression on his face, sleepy almost, like the situation we were in was no cause for concern—it was both annoying and reassuring.

I sat on my bed, Naruto plopping down beside me and leaning into my arm, and Sasuke leaned against the foot of the bed.

"All here," Kakashi said, his steel grey eye skimming over all of us. "Let's talk. Go from the start."

"The start of what?" Naruto asked.

"After the fight," Kakashi said. "Give me a full report of what's happened since then."

I flicked my eyes to the window. "One of us is going to need to leave soon to guard Tazuna while he's at the bridge."

Sasuke unwound his arms from around his chest and straightened up. "I'll go."

"What if Gato tries something?" I asked. "There should be two people there."

"Naruto," Kakashi said. "Send clones with Sasuke. Give him enough to set up a perimeter around the bridge."

Naruto gave a sleepy nod, pressed his fingers together, and ten clones popped into existence and made the already crowded room feel that much smaller. Sasuke looked at all of them with distaste.

"You should send them ahead," I said. "Sasuke and Tazuna won't be leaving for the bridge for another few minutes, but the clones can go before them and make there aren't any traps or anything."

"Good idea," Kakashi said. "If there's anything wrong I want you to alert us immediately."

"Yeah, got it."

The clones opened the window and squeezed themselves out one by one, while Sasuke went downstairs to where I could feel Tazuna sitting at the kitchen table.

Kakashi stared at us, expectant.

I did most of the talking. Naruto piped in with bits here and there, but he spent more time staring down at his hands and twiddling his thumbs. As much as I could, I kept the narrative short and sweet, cutting what details I could and boiling the entire situation down into a fifteen-minute explanation.

Kakashi took all of it in when an even expression, but I felt the minor shifts in his chakra signature, spiking and waning as the story went on.

When I was finished speaking I reached under the bed and pulled out Inari's hat. "This is all they left behind," I murmured. "The actual note is in the crown of it."

A hint of chakra gathered in Kakashi's nose as he held the paper underneath his nostrils and inhaled. Once, twice. A minute nod. His gaze moved to the window and he leaned forward, his chin propped in his hand. He sat there in silence.

"So?" Naruto asked. "Can you find him?"

Kakashi waved a hand. "Of course I can."

"Then why didn't you say so?"

"Hmm." He rubbed the back of his head, turned to look at us again. "We'll be discussing the plans for the rescue later on tonight, once Sasuke returns. I want both of you to be packed and ready to leave at a moment's notice—there's no telling when we'll have to depart."

"Alright," I said.

Kakashi picked his book up again and went back to reading, a clear cue that the conversation was over. Naruto bristled at the blunt dismissal but I grabbed his hand and pulled him away before anything could come out of it, dragging him off towards the back porch.

We sat there, out in the sun, shoulder to shoulder with our feet dipped in the water, for the rest of the morning.

.

.

We were informed later in the morning that there had been another note waiting on the bridge when Tazuna and Sasuke arrived. It granted Tazuna until construction ended on the bridge to make his choice if he wanted to get Inari back alive. For every day that Inari remained in Gato's possession, however, Gato would take off one of his fingers, starting that evening at midnight.

Kakashi decided that we had no choice but to attempt the rescue within the day.

I bit back my protests and nodded along. I had my marching orders, and like the good little soldier that I was, I'd follow them.

.

.

"You'll be doing it tonight, then," Tazuna said. "Going to get him."

"Yes," Kakashi answered.

I twisted my spoon around the bowl and tried to ignore the rampant fear that tore through my mind at those words.

We had a plan. All of us knew what we were supposed to do, what role we were to play. I wanted to believe that we would succeed. I wanted to think that it was possible for us to get into the base, accomplish all of the objectives Kakashi had set out, and get back out alive.

I didn't.

Kakashi spent the entire day in bed regaining his energy. He could move around without crutches, though I caught him using chakra to augment his legs in order to do so. The wound on his arm _would_ bleed again if jostled. He was functional. His fighting capabilities would be limited, but in a pinch, he would manage.

Naruto and Sasuke were both inexperienced and jittering with nerves.

I was emotionally and physically exhausted.

We needed to take a day or two to collect ourselves and prepare for whatever might await us at the base. None of us were in the proper condition to attempt this rescue, but the time constraint Gato placed on us had pushed Kakashi into action.

I tamped down on the urge to stomp my feet and throw a tantrum and tear out my hair and fall on the floor sobbing. The impulse was stupid and ridiculous, which was where all its appeal came from. I wanted to be a child and throw a hissy fit. There was so much of _everything_ bouncing around inside my head, vouching for my attention and my energy, two things that were in short supply as it was.

A hand landed on my head.

I blinked, yanked from my thoughts. The table around me was empty—Tazuna gone, Tsunami gone, the boys gone, the dishes cleared away.

"You should eat," Kakashi said. He wasn't looking at me, even as his hand remained in place. "You'll need your energy tonight."

"If I eat, I'm going to puke."

"I'm ordering you to eat."

"You're ordering me to puke, then."

"I'm ordering you to eat _and_ keep it down."

"That's not fair," I mumbled. "You can't order bodily functions around."

Kakashi hummed. "It's going to be fine, tonight."

His casual approach and words were supposed to calm me, give me a reason to relax in the face of danger. It had succeeded earlier, but right then it failed—it _angered_ me. I had spent the entire fucking mission trying to convince myself that things were fine, that I was fine, that all of it was _just fucking fine_.

None of it was fine. There was nothing about the situation that was fine. I wasn't fine, Kakashi wasn't fine, Tsunami wasn't fine, Tazuna wasn't fine. Inari sure as _hell_ wasn't fine. The boys were coping, but Sasuke wasn't sleeping either and when Naruto thought nobody was looking, any hint of a smile was wiped from his features and replaced with a harried look that I had never thought he was capable of.

I didn't want to be told it was _fine_ anymore. It wasn't _._

"Don't make promises like that. Don't… don't _do that_ to me."

His chakra jolted; his face remained placid, a lone silver brow rising up. "You don't have confidence that I can keep it?"

"No."

The hand was removed from my hair and Kakashi took a step back, stared at me for a small eternity.

"Alright."

Not knowing what else to do, I nodded.

My eyes affixed themselves to the cold soup in front of me and I wondered whether I would grow to regret the choices I made. A few hours were all that stood between me and a definitive answer.

The legs of my chair scraped the floor. I stood, picked up my bowl, and walked into the kitchen. The remnants of my supper sloshed against the cold metal as I tipped my bowl over and poured all of it down the drain.

"I'm going to double check my pack," I said. "Come get me when it's time to leave."

Kakashi said nothing, watching me with those stupid, emotionless eyes.

I left.


	19. Land of Waves: Part 5

_._

* * *

 _Death is not the greatest loss. The greatest loss_

 _is what dies inside of us while we live._

* * *

I crept forward, crouching down in the bushes, and raised a hand to move stray branches from my path.

The silhouette of a sprawling building greeted my gaze, the mansion made visible by the light streaming out of its windows. That was our destination. That was Gato's base.

Both of the boys remained in a thicker part of the forest. From my peripheral, I caught sight of Naruto fidgeting and Sasuke directing a sullen glare at the ground in front of him, his hands shoved in his pockets. Their lips moved, annoyed eyes met and parted—they were bickering. Kakashi followed at my shoulder rather than stay behind—for a man who shouldn't even be standing, his movements were silent and carried out with a surprising amount of grace. I envied his ability to mask his condition.

I altered my path a smidgen to avoid the sight of a civilian guard that was skulking around the perimeter of the base. His head appeared to be shifting out towards the forest every so often, remaining turned to stare out into the trees for a split second and then facing forward again, as if he wasn't expecting to see anything each time he looked.

 _Idiot._

"Inattentive guards," I mumbled, my voice pitched for Kakashi's ears alone. "Either Gato's trying to lull us into a false sense of security, he isn't expecting us to strike tonight, or he was too stupid to alert his security teams of a potential threat."

Kakashi made a vague noise of assent but offered no other reply.

I gritted my teeth and kept to my job.

When we were close enough, I dropped down to one knee, and the grasp I held on my chakra sense loosened. The tenebrous night was breached by an abundance of sparks, flickering with life; every chakra signature in the base, both above and below ground, fell within my grasp. The building had two visible floors, but the four layers of signatures displayed to me marked the base as having two underground levels as well.

A pair of signatures stationed in the middle of the top floor gave the loudest calls for my attention. Brighter than the rest, but not that bright. Genin. It sat in a strategically sound part of the building, as there were far fewer windows peppered along the walls of the uppermost level when compared to the rest of the building, giving intruders fewer chances to get inside. Upon closer inspection, the windows all seemed to be guarded, to boot.

The signatures weren't alone in that room. There were three other wispy collections of chakra in the near vicinity, one of which I was certain represented Gato. The other two could belong to other guards, business partners, _prostitutes_ —it was impossible to be certain of anything except that they were civilian.

I closed my sense and took a deep breath, massaging my temples to ward off the headache forming in the space between my eyes.

Kakashi remained silent.

"I found two genin in the middle of the top floor," I said. "There's three other signatures in the room with them—one of them is Gato, I'm guessing."

"Inari?" Kakashi asked.

"Haven't found him," I replied.

His signature wasn't familiar enough that I could pick it out of a crowd, especially not when that crowd comprised of _hundreds_ of civilian signatures packed inside a single building. People were making deals, partaking in various recreational activities—some more savoury than others, I assumed—and generally doing the types of things that were done inside a major crime hub. There was a lot happening and I had to sift through all of it to find Inari.

I started from the bottom, the lowest underground floor, and filtered out the signatures from the rest of the building as best I could. His chakra, the outline of the shape smaller and churning with a unique intensity, caught my attention as I scanned one of the hallways near the middle of the floor.

"He's on the bottom floor," I said. "Two signatures are on either side of him, and another two just in front of him—they aren't moving at all."

"Good."

Kakashi turned and slunk off, a waved hand over his shoulder serving as my signal to follow him.

Both of the boys looked up when we approached.

"Did ya find him?" Naruto asked, reigning in the volume of his voice at the last second when Sasuke elbowed him in the ribs.

"Quiet down, idiot."

My mouth pulled down in a frown.

"None of that now," Kakashi said. "We have a job to do. You're ninja—act like it."

Kakashi gestured towards me. "Yeah, we found them," I said. "He and Gato are pretty much in opposite parts of the building."

Naruto's expression brightened a fraction and then drooped, the whole of the statement hitting him. Sasuke grunted, scuffed his foot against the ground.

"The plan isn't changing," Kakashi said. "Kasumi, I want you to focus on Naruto and Sasuke—I'll handle myself."

I forced down the mixed emotions of annoyance and frustration, that infuriating hint of relief, and nodded. "Sure."

"Sasuke, you're going to come with me. I'll pick our point of entrance and lead you to the downstairs entrance, then we'll split off from there," Kakashi said, directing his eye to Sasuke. He gave him a hard stare. "You're going to be relying on Kasumi to direct you. If she tells you something, you aren't to argue with her."

Sasuke grunted in reply.

Kakashi's gaze didn't waver from him. "Sasuke, am I understood?" he asked. His expression didn't change, nor did the volume of his voice or the laxness of his posture, but his tone had gained an undercurrent of steel.

"Yes."

"Good," Kakashi said. He huffed out a breath and raised a hand to rest it on his hip, tilted his head. "Naruto, you're going to come with us as well. I want you to provide support for Sasuke while the clones are out and creating chaos. In case Kasumi struggles with keeping track of you two and the people around you, your job is to make sure Sasuke gets to the target safe and sound. Is that clear?"

"Uh-huh."

An aura of tension drifted between the boys but neither of them would argue with direct orders, not with the stakes that were at play.

"Kasumi, I want you stationed near the point of entrance," Kakashi said. "I want you to have it in your line of sight."

"Got it."

"Keep things clean," Kakashi continued. "Disable anybody you can and take the clones out as you go. They'll be helpful to cause chaos, but they'll get in our way as easily as the enemies if we aren't careful." He straightened and clapped his hands together. "All settled, then. Off we go kids."

It took two trips around the building for Kakashi to make his decision.

There was a large window straight past the tree line from where he stood, wide open, light streaming out and the smell of fresh cooked meat wafting through the air. I could sense a handful of people milling around the room and an area attached to it that was filled to the brim with signatures, but the windows along the nearest wall revealed an empty hallway. It appeared to stretch past the actual dining area, reaching further than the mass of signatures contained in front of it. It was a pathway for staff to ferry meals throughout the building—perfect for what I assumed Kakashi had in mind.

I picked the nearest tree and scaled it. The vantage point from the top branches was ideal, a place where I was hidden from sight by the foliage but still had a clear view of the building below. A bit of chakra on the soles of my feet, a bit of chakra in my hands, and I was secured to the tree; I shut my eyes and opened up my chakra sense.

"What's the situation like on the inside?" Kakashi asked, his voice crackling over the intercom.

"Four in the first room, maybe thirty in the room adjoined to it," I replied. "The hallway that wraps around is empty, though."

"Update us as we go."

"Understood."

There was an explosion of chakra to my left, an army of Naruto clones filling up the forest around me. Hundreds of them. Naruto created more clones than there were people in the base. That was ideal, as the job of the clones was to cause a ruckus, to overwhelm the people inside, to distract them and take out who they could, while the real Team 7 accomplished the objectives.

"Everybody clear?" Kakashi asked.

"Yes."

"Yep."

"Yeah."

"Alright," Kakashi said. "Go, Naruto."

The sheer volume of the stampeding clones rivalled that of thunder cracking through the sky during a vicious storm. One by one they shoved their way through the window, flooded the kitchen, and worked their way out into the dining hall, the entire room becoming one giant buzz of nervous chakra.

Kakashi, Sasuke, and the real Naruto slipped in after the last clone—as I suspected, they took the hallway tucked into the edge of the building.

The entire situation was a giant headache for me, a case of sensory overload like I had never experienced, with hundreds of signatures around the building that called for my attention and pricked at my awareness. I struggled to keep from being overwhelmed by the spectacle; staring at it was like staring directly at the sun. It was close, it was bright, and my chakra sense kept attempting to force itself shut in response.

Kakashi made a point of pulsing his chakra every few steps to hold my focus on their group, and he had instructed Sasuke to do the same. The fewer enemies that were active and moving around, the fewer clones that were present, the further they went, the easier things became.

 _Breathe._

"Group of three coming up on your nine."

Kakashi's signature broke ahead of the boys and headed straight for the civilians who were clumped up together. I expected the signatures to disappear. Instead, they dropped in quick succession, dulled but not snuffed out.

"Any others in the immediate vicinity?" Kakashi asked.

 _Focus._

"There's two to your north-east, but they're occupied with the clones," I said. "Three more past them—they're heading towards the other two, I think. Then there's a couple coming up on your twelve, but there's also a group of clones between you and them so that should keep them occupied while you slip ahead."

"We need to take the path to our twelve," Kakashi said. Their signatures went on the move again. "Target updates?"

 _Don't get distracted._

My grip tightened on the bark, bits of it digging into the skin of my palm.

"The signatures of the ninja on the top floor are a bit agitated. They moved a bit, too, probably guarding the door. There's just one other civilian signature with them," I said. I shifted my focus, forced out a breath. "There' only two signatures around Inari now. The other two went to investigate the commotion, I think. Oh—there's a civilian signature coming up on your three, ETA ten seconds."

Kakashi moved to meet them head-on. They offered him no resistance.

Forward, forward, forward. Winding, bobbing, weaving. Two distinct blobs moving through the madness, a third trailing behind that blended into the mass so well that I stopped attempting to keep track of it.

A minute had ticked by when I felt their signatures stop.

"Here," Kakashi said. A pause, a ruffling of clothes; those words weren't meant for me. "We're separating."

"Understood."

Kakashi's chakra went from pulsing to tucked in, a conscious reigning in of his chakra that was a habit I assumed had been ingrained in him through years of experience. In contrast, Sasuke's chakra grew more distinct, a lone grey cloud intermingled with a bright summer sky.

The boys started their descent towards Inari and though the majority of my attention remained with them, a part of it took note of the utter lack of activity that followed in Kakashi's wake. That was how I tracked Kakashi. Not by his own signature, but by the absence of signatures, the blank spaces of energy, that formed in the top level of the building. He left nothing behind, the signatures of the clones dispersing first and the human signatures second as he carved a path upwards.

Naruto and Sasuke were done with their floor in a handful of seconds. The way down was close, within the first few hallways they searched, and at that point it became my job to guide them towards their goal.

At the same time, Kakashi was nearing the top of the base. The genin signatures refused to abandon their charge. They would rethink that decision once they grasped the full extent of the threat heading their way—that is, if they were alive long enough to do so.

"Take the nearest left."

Their signatures moved a bit further down, made a sharp turn in that direction.

"As soon as you can, turn right."

A breath, two, and a ninety-degree shift in their movements.

"Go straight for as long as you can."

Forward, forward, forward, forward—a lack of motion.

"There's a left and right turn," Sasuke grunted, his voice somewhat laboured. "Which one?"

I wanted to say neither. Inari was further forward, further into the base, but if they took a left turn then they'd be moving _away_ from him. "Go right."

Compared to the upper levels, the population on the bottom floor was sparse, with few clones and fewer civilians. Half of the people there were guarding Inari, and the other half were scattered amongst what I assumed was a labyrinth of hallways and rooms.

The light of chakra on the top floor burnt out—the entire visible part of the base was dark, save for the dim streak of metallic that was Kakashi.

Gato was dead. He was dead, gone, no longer a threat to us, to the village, and the entirety of Wave country.

A breath gushed out from me and the load on my shoulders lightened.

I waited for Kakashi to announce his completion. He remained silent and instead his signature stopped, slumped down, fell against something—a wall, presumably. His chakra was low. Moving around required little chakra, but having to keep his legs augmented for such a long period had worn his already low reserves down.

There were people heading in Kakashi's direction, guards from the ground floor who were making their way up to defend their boss.

"Kasumi."

Naruto and Sasuke had stopped moving.

"Sorry," I said, mentally shaking myself. _Stupid_. I forced my attention back to the boys, forced my mind to roll over the words that I had tuned out. "Right now he's twenty degrees northeast of your location. The path is making you overshoot. Just take the first path on your twelve that you can, but don't retrace your footsteps. I don't think you missed the right way."

"Tch."

The base was beginning to drain of signatures, those who chose to flee sprinting out from the doors and taking refuge in the forest. I didn't blame them as, regardless of his current lack of activity, I assumed Kakashi had plans for anybody that remained once he went on the prowl again.

I counted one, two, five, eight, thirteen signatures—I lost track and my attention snapped back to the boys.

"Signature on your left," I said.

I expected Sasuke to be the one to jump ahead and take the fight; Naruto's signature was the one to make the first hit. Sasuke's followed, a hair behind Naruto, and the opponent went down in the blink of an eye.

"Heh," Naruto huffed, the sound harshened and distorted by the comms. "How was that?"

"Whatever."

"Keep moving," I said. "You're getting close."

Inari was close, terribly close, enough so that I began to entertain the thought that my pessimistic outlook from earlier in the evening had been unfounded. I could _taste_ our success.

They made it to the end of their hallway, took out the two guards who awaited them.

They hooked around the corner and sprinted forward.

They met up with the remaining two signatures that stood between them and Inari.

My breath rattled in my lungs, baited. My fingers curled around the branch beneath me in a grip that had the bark cracking under the pressure.

It wasn't either of the two boy's voices that alerted me of our success.

"You… you're here?"

That laugh that burst from me was near hysterical. My hands released the tree and weaved together over my mouth, a tear falling from my eye that I hadn't felt gather.

I had never heard that voice before—Inari hadn't so much as spared us a word after our arrival—but the boyish squeak and exhausted brittle that enraptured the spoken words was unmistakable.

"Yeah, Inari," Naruto answered. His voice was hoarse, scratchy, as if he were crying too. "We're here."

A strangled sob, distant and muffled, whispered from the speakers, and Inari's signature moved forward to collide with Naruto's.

"We've got him, Kakashi," Sasuke said, his voice smug. "He's fine. What now?"

"Good job. Make your way out and head back to Kasumi," Kakashi answered. "I'm nearly done."

Any hints of the hardened soldier that had slipped out earlier, doling orders with precision and an expectation of absolute obedience, were gone.

"Need help?" Naruto asked.

"Mah," Kakashi answered. "I'm a tired old man, but I can take care of myself."

His chakra was lower than I liked, but he wasn't using much of it to keep himself functioning and fighting—he'd be fine to finish up, though whether he'd be able to make it back afterwards was up in the air. Even then, should he not be able to make it back, Naruto could conjure up more clones and carry him on the trip home.

While neither of the boys seemed to have clued into it, I had a niggling idea of what Kakashi planned to do and why he wanted the boys out of the building when he did it.

Konoha ninja didn't leave messes and loose threads behind, and Kakashi was no exception.

"We're on our way," Sasuke said. His signature shifted. "Idi—" A short exhale. "Naruto. Grab the kid."

"Yeah, yeah."

Both groups moved towards each other.

Naruto and Sasuke wove their way through the floors. Sasuke took the lead and removed any imminent threats, and Naruto brought up the rear with Inari in tow. There were some who had been missed on the way down that headed towards the action. I wondered how many of them would laugh in the face of two children only for a foot to be planted in their mouths to silence the sound seconds later.

Kakashi was going downwards, but he wasn't in any rush to get to his destination. He had taken out the odd straggler when they got close earlier—he hadn't _touched_ any of them, nor had his chakra fluxed, so I assumed he was taking them out with thrown weapons—and he kept that going. His progress was slow and little chakra circulated through his body. He restrained himself, saved his energy.

Naruto and Sasuke burst from out of the front door of the building rather than going out through the kitchen window. Inari continued to cry, his sobs loud enough that I could hear him from my position. The wails shattered the stillness in the air, sent it careening to the ground where it splintered into an irrevocable disaster. He was lucky that stealth was no longer a requirement.

I turned my comm to the private channel, linked to Kakashi and Kakashi alone. "They're out of the building."

"Thanks," came the dry reply.

Regardless of whether or not he had asked for the assistance, Kakashi acted on it, picked up his pace and started to move through the floors with gusto. His signature flashed with a hint of life and he began to circulate the chakra to his lower body again.

By the time Naruto and Sasuke worked their way over to where I was, Kakashi had torn through what enemies were left on the top and ground levels, leaving not a soul behind.

I forced my chakra sense shut.

That pungent copper, which I was certain besmirched the air inside the base, filled my nostrils. Either the blood on the floors had grown copious enough to leak out of the windows or my mind was playing tricks on me. When the boys gave no reaction, made no comment on the smell, I knew it was the latter.

I dropped from my perch to meet them halfway.

Part of me felt numb with disbelief at the sight of Naruto, Sasuke, and Inari all walking towards me unharmed. We had succeeded. I hadn't thought it was possible, wrapped up in my melancholy, fed up with the fact that everything had progressed into a worse and worse situation.

I was glad that I had been wrong. I had never been felt _so glad_ to have been wrong.

The weight, which had seen a partial release earlier, when I first heard Inari's voice over my comm, fully lifted from my shoulders.

"What's Kakashi doing in there?" Sasuke asked, his eyes locked on me.

"Yeah—I wanna help!"

"It doesn't matter," I answered. My gaze cut to Naruto. "Trust me: you don't want to help."

Naruto blinked.

Sasuke, sharp as ever, scowled. "Oh." He dropped the subject, and instead sent a glare at Inari. "Naruto, shut that kid up."

"Don't be an ass!" Naruto cried. "He's just upset. I think he's allowed to be a crybaby right now."

"Did either of you check him for injuries?" I asked.

"He's not bleeding," Sasuke answered.

As inadequate as it sounded, that was a fair assessment to make when you had a limited amount of time to move. There had been no chance for them to look. The main injury we had to be on the lookout for was a lost finger, and that would have been clear within seconds of looking at him.

Naruto adjusted him, the action awkward and betraying his inexperience with kids. He was holding him incorrectly, too, with one hand fisted in Inari's shirt and the other cupped under his knee, like a child holding a teddy bear.

I held out my arms. "Give him to me."

Inari was light and bony and thin, weighing less than some of the weights I had used to train some days. I wrapped one arm around his back, the other underneath his rear, and settled him on my hip, the way Maen had done with me when I was that small. His sobs kept up.

I put some distance between us and the boys, between us and the base. I set him down on a tree stump and stared at him straight on. His eyes stayed down on the dirt.

"Hey," I said. "Look at me, Inari."

He didn't move.

My fingers came under his chin and I forced his gaze upwards. He jumped at the contact but I didn't give him the chance to pull away.

"Huh—"

"Are you hurt?"

"I'm hungry," he mumbled.

"But you're not hurt?" I asked again.

"Nu-uh."

He was tired, he was hungry, he was traumatized, but none of those things were what I could deal with. All I had for him was first aid, should he need it. He didn't, therefore I could do nothing for him but ease the stress that he was under.

"Good, thank you."

I added a bit of chakra to my finger and tapped him on the side of the neck, the area below the base of his right ear. His eyes rolled into the back of his head and he was unconscious in a heartbeat. I steadied him before he could fall, picked him up, slung him over my shoulder.

The vagus nerve, which ran along the side of the neck and connected to the brain and the heart, was a favourite when a ninja needed to knock somebody out in short order. Hitting Inari's was the kindest option to all involved parties.

"Wha—hey! What's wrong with him?"

"He's unconscious," I said, walking over to where they were. I stooped down and laid him out over the grass. "He's fine."

"You knocked him out," Sasuke said.

"Yeah. Problem?"

He shook his head and smirked, offering no response.

I went to look at Naruto, expecting him to offer no protests, but the expression on his face iced my insides and froze my pulse.

"Naruto?" I asked, unable to keep all the panic from my voice.

Sasuke stiffened.

"The clones," Naruto mumbled. "The clones I had at the house… somebody just popped them."

It took a second, two, three, four, five, for the words to sink in.

 _The clones we left behind at the house had been popped_.

Horror was the first reaction, creeping and slithering and vine-like, gripping my heart in a vice grip that promised to squeeze every out every last bit of life. Anger, white-hot, flickered in the embers of my soul and attempted to restart what had been smothered. Grief followed that, a rain cloud from which a torrential downpour spurted and drowned me from the inside out.

Then, those all faded, overtaken by a numbness that left me hollow.

 _The clones we left behind at the house had been popped_.

"Kakashi," I said. I was still linked to his private comm. "We need to leave."

"What is it?"

"Naruto's clones were popped. I think Tazuna and Tsunami are dead."

No response.

Naruto sniffed, whimpered, on the verge of tears, but Sasuke looked to be as shell-shocked as I was.

 _The clones we left behind at the house had been popped_.

They were there as a last resort, guards that were meant to defend against a civilian threat, at best. Scare people off. Make them think twice about attacking.

 _The clones we left behind at the house had been popped_.

They had been a precaution that not even Kakashi believed would see use. Two clones could handle most civilians. Gato had hired a ninja, probably just some cheap genin who he never intended to pay. He had to have sent somebody capable of handling the clones to the house and there was only one reason he would have done that.

 _The clones we left behind at the house had been popped._

Gato was dead, gone. His reign over Wave Country was over. The people had a chance at life, an open sea to trade as they wish and feed themselves again.

And yet, Gato had gotten the last laugh.

"Start moving," Kakashi said. "I'll catch up. If you encounter an enemy before I do, you are not to engage."

I envied him—he didn't sound the least bit bothered by the fact that they were dead. It didn't sound like it mattered to him.

I wondered if Kakashi had put any thought towards keeping Tazuna and Tsunami alive, if he had truly cared when he decided on our plan for the evening, decided on what precautions would be taken to ensure their safety.

"Understood." I shut my comm off. I looked to Naruto and Sasuke. "Let's go."

.

.

Kakashi cut down the man in front of him, slit his throat in passing with a kunai.

He would be chastised for the outcome of the mission. His client was dead, his mission was a failure, and he shouldn't have even continued with it in the first place. It would mar his near-spotless record.

Kakashi didn't care about whatever backlash he was going to face upon his return. He knew that the favour he earned from the daimyo of Water would outweigh any shame the loss of a simple peasant client would cost the village. Hiruzen wouldn't be impressed, but he would also see the entire team returning alive as worth the cost.

Kakashi had briefly considered that Gato was luring their group into a trap. The likelihood of it happening had been small in his mind, but he still knew it was a possibility and he could have left one of his students behind to guard against it. He could have left two of them, even.

He _could have_.

To do that, however, would have been to leave his students isolated and in danger for the sake of two people that he didn't particularly care for. Tazuna was an old man who attempted to do something good and went about it all the wrong way. Tsunami was a kind young woman, innocent, and undeserving of the grief-filled hand she had been dealt in her life. Neither of them were worth the risk to his students.

Kakashi flung a kunai with one hand, a careless flick of the wrist, and it stuck an opponent down the hall in the eye. He walked past, grabbed the hilt and twisted, shoved it far enough that it caused fatal brain damage, and jerked it out again.

Sending his students down a couple of floors without him? Not a concern as they were never out of Shunshin distance.

Sending them a couple minutes ahead, giving them something to focus on while he finished up? He didn't think twice about doing it because there were no immediate threats in the area and he would be joining them shortly.

Kakashi swept the woman's legs out from under her, knocked her to the floor, and stomped on her nose with his heel. Her skull collapsed beneath his foot like it was nothing more than a grape.

Leaving his students fifteen kilometres away and out of comm range? That wasn't happening.

Kakashi had let his students get hurt enough already. He didn't care what it cost—he didn't dare let it happen again. Kakashi assumed that Hiruzen would understand, but again, even if he didn't, Kakashi _didn't care_.

He wouldn't fail his students again.

.

.

The house was ashes when we arrived.

It was a two-hour trek from the base, as Kakashi was incapable of travelling at typical ninja speeds. We didn't rush back. It was understood that Tazuna and Tsunami were dead from the second that Naruto reported the loss of his clones—at least, for all of us but Naruto. He had attempted to push us forward until the reality of things sank in. All of his words dissolved into silent tears after that.

There we stood, in front of what had once been a home, watching the remains smoulder and flicker with flames that hadn't yet died out. The early hints of morning showed over the water; the sun peeked up over the horizon and the sky bled a crimson red which seeped out like a disease.

I wrapped my arm around Naruto's waist and rested my head on his shoulder. Sasuke didn't protest when I grabbed his hand and twined my own fingers between his. Naruto cried. I didn't cry, nor did Sasuke. Kakashi had a resigned exhaustion about him that he masked with a slouch.

We took Inari to the village. We knocked on some doors, met with a few of the villagers, explained what happened to who would listen, and after a couple of hours we found a family that agreed to take him in. The couple recognized him upon first glance, knew him by name, as did their children. They shook their heads and muttered words of grief upon hearing about Tazuna and Tsunamis death. They called Inari a child of heroes.

Hearing that reminded me of every reason I never wanted to be a hero.

They offered us a place to stay, as well. Kakashi didn't have to pose the question to us as the answer was obvious. He refused, was gracious, gave a few charming words. We left at the first opportunity.

It all passed in a haze. I made no attempts to pay attention.

I was tired. I wanted to go home.

From the home of the couple, we went straight to the entrance of the village and headed out into the forest, away from the Land of Waves. None of us were fit to travel, and Kakashi made it known that he planned for us to set up camp for the day within an hours walk of the village. We needed to leave. All of us needed to leave.

My feet walked the path away from the village, kicked up dust on the way out.

I knew I would never return to that village for as long as I lived.


	20. Land of Waves: Part 6

_._

* * *

 _Healing doesn't mean the_

 _damage never existed, it means that the damage_

 _no longer controls our lives._

* * *

I stared at the drenched remnants of our fire, frozen fingers clasped around my knees, and didn't bother to try and protect myself against the bitter breeze that nipped at my skin.

It was the middle of the day and rain poured from the sunless sky—if I didn't know better, I could have mistaken the time for midnight, not noon, from how dark it was around us. Drops of water thundered against the ground, beat, beat, beat into the dirt, spurted bits of mud up into the air. It dripped through the canopy of the tree we sat under, travelled down each broad leaf that adorned the branches of the tree.

Naruto shifted, scooted closer to me and lay his head on my shoulder. A second later Sasuke did the same, moving so that our shoulders were almost touching. I doubted the movement was intentional. The three of us huddled there together to gain the warmth that our wet clothes and bedrolls couldn't provide.

Kakashi slept behind us in the deepest sleep that a ninja of his calibre was capable of. He'd bandaged the wound that ran up his forearm once we set up camp, cleaned the cracked skin and pulled a length of pristine bandage from out of nowhere to wrap around it, doing a better job than Sasuke or I had done. He fell asleep after that, and had remained that way for the last three hours.

"Hey… hey, Kaka…"

"Yeah?"

"Do you think Inari's gonna be okay?" Naruto asked. His voice was hushed, his breath warm on my cheek. "We kinda… just left him there… and ya know…"

I watched bits of smoke sputter up from the pile of soaked wood in front of us with listless eyes. My gut twisted. "I don't know, Naruto."

* * *

We reached the start of the Hashirama forest, the gates of the village, the bustling streets of the marketplace, and I didn't feel like I was home.

I was cold in the heat of summer, tired after having a generous amount of time to sleep the night before. I wasn't right.

When I passed by the gates of the Nara compound, I felt a spark of life in my otherwise numb chest. The signatures of Shikamaru, Shikaku, Yoshino brushed up against my senses, spots of glorious familiarity, and I felt a burn. I pushed open the door to the house and the heat simmered.

Shoes dropped on the mat and my pack followed. Feet strode forward, one after the other.

The image of Maen sitting on the worn cotton sofa, a cigarette in his mouth, a stack of papers on his lap, eyes already raised to watch my approach, ignited the fire again.

Home.

 _I was home_.

I couldn't hold myself together anymore. My knees buckled and I went crashing down towards the floor—Maen caught me before I hit the ground. His hands came to cradle my face, one calloused palm pressing against each of my cheeks, and his lips moved to form words that I didn't hear over the buzz in my ears and the sobs that rattled my bones.

Unsatisfied with my lack of response, his hands roved over my arms, my torso, my legs.

"I'm—I'm not hu—hurt," I managed. "I'm—"

He pulled me against his chest and silenced the words. His mouth pressed against the top of my head, arms wound around me, and his whole being swallowed up my body.

 _Warm._

 _It was so warm._

I melted into the embrace. The stress, the frustration, and the grief, products of everything that went wrong over the course of the last two and a half weeks, rushed out of me. Two and a half weeks of bottling up as much as I could manage and shoving it away. Two and a half weeks of stress and pressure.

Maen swept me up and carried me bridal-style through the house, right to his room. He set me down on his bed. When he took a step backwards, away from me, my arms reached out towards him like a child asking to be picked up. His hand settled on top of my head, but he didn't move to hold me again.

"I'm just grabbing a shirt for you," he murmured. "Your clothes are ruined."

I couldn't argue with that. The clothes I had on were worn, the hems frayed, the fabric stained and torn from being snagged by tree branches as we travelled.

A shower wouldn't have been out of the question, as there was dirt and grime caked along my skin, and my hair was beyond dirty by this point. Maen handed me an oversized t-shirt and prodded me towards his bathroom, and I decided to do that very thing. I kept it quick—I washed my hair, scrubbed at my skin. I showered for as long as the water swirled down the drain brown.

When I walked out of the bathroom, I saw Maen sitting on his mussed bed, one leg hidden beneath the dark green bedcovers, my tattered pack at the foot of the bed and a steaming cup of tea on the bedside table. Most of my body was still wet. My hair soaked the back of my shirt and my feet left watermarks with each step, but I didn't have it in me to care. I stumbled forward and crashed into Maen. He took the sudden collision without issue, leant back to compensate for the force of my weight and eased me down onto the bed.

I started crying again, the emotion inside of me like a bubble being popped.

The urge was overwhelming to the point where I had no choice but to deal with it. There was no way for me to shut it off and shove it away. I spent the entire mission doing that. Emotions could be buried for so long before they demanded to be felt. An ocean crashes over the shore whether or not the sand is ready to be washed away, the autumn breeze yanks the leaves from their branch regardless of if the leaf is prepared for departure. In the same way, emotions are a force of nature in and of themselves.

I curled up in the fetal position and let myself cry. I lay there and let myself be held.

I let myself remember that no matter what, I wasn't alone.

* * *

Maen was mad.

He didn't get that way often—it had been _years_ since he last felt the cold fury that settled like a rock in his gut. It wasn't a sensation he was fond of. He might have attempted to ignore it except for the fact that, given what had happened, the feeling was entirely founded and rational.

He leapt from rooftop to rooftop with a single destination in mind. It was early in the morning, the sun scraping against the horizon. Maen needed to be fast. He needed to catch his target, talk some sense into him, and get back to the house before Kasumi woke up and found him missing, if she hadn't already.

Thankfully, his target was predictable.

Kakashi didn't turn to face Maen as he touched down on the ground, but Maen had no doubt that Kakashi knew he was there.

"I want to ask what the fuck you were thinking, bringing a group of fresh genin on a B-rank mission, but I already know the answer to that question," Maen drawled. He walked forward, hands shoved in his pockets and one eye squinted against the morning sunlight. Kakashi stiffened a fraction. "You weren't."

"Ah."

"That's it? You put three kids into a life-threatening situation, and that's really the only thing you have to say?"

Kakashi scratched the back of his head and turned from the memorial stone. "I did what I had to do."

"What about those kids?"

"What about them?"

Maen stopped and raised a hand to block out the sun. "You're emotionally stunted, not stupid." He felt anger rather than sympathy when Kakashi offered no response but a blank look and a tilted head. "You… you're _fucking kidding me,_ right?"

"I would have had to actually say something to do that."

"Do you even understand the magnitude of what happened?"

Kakashi shrugged, strolled towards Maen. "Two civilians were caught in the crossfire of the mission. It's unfortunate that the boy lost his parents, and I'm sure that the kids are quite upset about it, but—"

"Stop." Maen pinched the bridge of his nose and hissed out a breath. "Those kids deserve better than having you be so blasé about their mental wellbeing. Don't underestimate how severely something like that can weigh on the mind of somebody as young as them."

Kakashi raised his eyebrow. "Oh?"

"My kid is currently lying in bed at home after having spent the entire night crying because _you_ failed to do your damn job right. Zabuza Momochi was her first kill—not to mention the fact that, right after, she had to cremate two bodies and clean up the whole site as per protocol. After something like that you're supposed to, you know, _talk to your student_. Ensure that they're stable."

Another blank look.

"Naruto and Sasuke, too. What about them? Their mission resulted in a kid being orphaned and neither of them have anybody at home to talk to about this. They're both orphans themselves. Did you talk about any of this with them? At all? Did you _consider_ that it might fuck with them?"

Another blank look.

Maen wanted to be surprised that Kakashi lacked any and all ability to deal with the emotional needs of his students—he wasn't. Maen had seen Kakashi in his early days, graduated at the same time as him, had watched him in the war and intermittently witnessed his years spent in ANBU; he didn't need anybody to tell him that Kakashi Hatake was emotionally incapable, nor did he need them to tell him why.

That didn't stop him from wanting to shove Kakashi's face into the dirt, but Maen could at least acknowledge that the situation wasn't black and white, especially considering he didn't know how much Kakashi was withholding from him.

He didn't _know_ whether or not Kakashi cared. Kakashi wasn't doing much of anything to show that the situation mattered to him, but Kakashi was also the kind of person who wore a literal mask over the majority of his face. To say he kept his emotions hidden would be an understatement.

Maen levelled his gaze with Kakashi. "What are you gonna do if you get these kids killed, huh?"

 _There_.

Maen caught a spark of emotion—anger, guilt, frustration—that was smoothed down into a placid expression and posture. It was like that burst of light which hit your eyes in the split second before you blocked the sun out with your hand. A flash of fierce, harsh emotion, and that was all it took to assure Maen that there was at least _something_ there. It wasn't enough to satisfy him, but Maen knew he wasn't going to get anything more substantial, no matter what he said or did. Pushing further would yield fewer results, not more. He had to pick his battles. He had to quit while he was ahead, insignificant as the ground gained was.

That was all he cared about at the end of the day. He wanted to air out his own emotions on the matter, but there were more constructive ways to do that. All he wanted was to know that what happened on Kasumi's last mission wouldn't happen again and if he saw what he thought he did, then he felt some confidence that Kakashi wouldn't allow for a repeat.

"Mah, I won't," Kakashi answered, waved a hand. "They're in good hands with me."

Maen turned and headed out of the training grounds. "They're not, actually," he said, chin lifted to toss the words over his shoulder. "Change that, and do it sooner rather than later. You don't get to throw these kid's lives away."

.

.

Kakashi watched the figure retreat across the rooftops and found himself being reminded of why most people avoided pissing off a Nara.

He wondered if Maen got what he wanted out of the conversation.

Kakashi turned to look at the memorial stone, stared at the names scrawled across it, his eyes flitting between the three that were most familiar to him. He rolled the conversation over in his head.

He hadn't known the extents which Kasumi went to cover up the scene of the fight—"I cleaned up," was all she had said to him, and he hadn't pressed, but he realized now that he should have—nor did he consider that either of the boys would see lasting mental repercussions. Kakashi had seen worse, he had always seen worse and had borne witness to it at a far younger age. However, Kakashi knew he wasn't the ideal tape-measure for gauging mental health and recognized that he needed to re-evaluate what constituted 'harm' in regards to his students.

There was more work for him to do than he imagined.

Kakashi sighed. He pulled down his mask and lifted a thumb, bit into it and drew blood. His hands clapped together and landed on the dirt in front of him, a bit of chakra, and a puff of smoke erupted from the ground.

Bisuke and Urushi stared at him, awaiting orders.

"I've got a job for you two."

.

.

The only thought Naruto had upon waking up from a fitful, unpleasant sleep and finding a dog on his chest was whether or not dogs could eat instant ramen.

He discovered they could when he made breakfast that morning. In fact, the one who snuck into his house enjoyed it—not as much as Naruto did, but the dog was a close second, if the gusto in which the dog chowed down was any indication.

Naruto decided that he liked dogs, even if the one that found him was kind of ugly.

.

.

Sasuke saw the dog emerge out of the corner of his eye. On instinct, one hand reached for the pouch of training kunai he had strapped to his leg, and his body jerked around to face it as he tossed the kunai.

The dog sidestepped the weapon and squared an affronted look at Sasuke.

Sasuke frowned—he had no idea how a dog, of all things, got into the compound and made it all the way to the training grounds. The dog lifted its muzzle into the air and sniffed, reminding Sasuke a bit of a wolf. It was gruff enough to be one, if not for the odd shirt that was wrapped around the animal's body.

Sasuke stepped forward as the dog did and he got a better look at the symbol that was stitched into the dog's shirt. Henohenomoheji. There was one person the dog could belong to.

"Go back to Kakashi," Sasuke said. "Tell him that I don't need you here."

The dog ignored him and trotted forward to settle down on the grass.

"I meant it. Go."

The dog lay on its belly, having found a perfect splash of morning sunlight, and set its muzzle down on its paws. It stared at Sasuke. It wasn't going anywhere.

Sasuke forced out a breath. "Fine, whatever. Just don't pee on anything."

.

.

I woke up feeling tired.

I sat up in the empty bed and oriented myself through sleep-grit eyes. The room was empty but the door had been left open a crack, and the scent of breakfast being made and a sliver of light slithered through. I could feel Maen there, feel him move as he prepared the food.

 _Home_.

My legs swung over the side of the bed, my joint and limbs stiff from having slept for—my head turned to look at the clock—thirteen hours. There was a pair of dark green slippers waiting there in front of the bed and a fresh set of clothes on the bedside table. I put on the slippers but left the clothes in favor of Maen's t-shirt that I already had on.

The smell of eggs and rice became more distinct the closer I got. I rounded the corner into the kitchen and saw Maen cooking in front of the stove, apron and all, his spatula snuggled beneath an egg that sizzled as he lifted it up off of the pan.

"You have good timing," he said, turning to look at me. He rolled his eyes at the shirt but I could see him smirk all the same.

"Smells good," I mumbled.

He nodded. "Thanks. Sit."

I stumbled into a chair and found a cup of tea placed in front of me. I lifted it to my lips and took a careful sip, enjoying the sight of Maen wandering around the kitchen in a pastel pink, floral embossed apron, long black hair flowing loose behind him as he moved. It was a sight. Maen would make a wonderful trophy wife if he ever decided to get hitched.

The scent of pork cooking hit my nose. I fought off the sudden burst of acid that burned up my throat, clamped a hand over my nose and mouth and squeezed my eyes shut.

I heard the pan get moved off the stove, metal scraping on metal, a second of silence, and the chair beside me was dragged across the floor. Half a minute passed. I didn't move my hand away until I was confident that I'd keep my stomach. I opened my eyes and leaned back in my chair.

A small part of me was terrified that I was going to burst out in tears again, but the itch in my throat didn't come—I'd gotten it out of my system the night before.

My gaze found Maen's but I couldn't get my mouth to form words.

Maen stood, set his hand on my head and went back into the kitchen to finish up, dragging his fingers through my hair on the way, and I realized that I didn't have to.

We ate in silence. I didn't have much of an appetite. I ate what I could but the churning of my stomach never quite halted, and there was still nearly half my breakfast left when I put my fork down and pushed the plate away. Maen didn't comment on it; he wrapped up what was there and put it in the fridge.

I wanted to go back to sleep for another few hours, days, weeks. I didn't feel like I was ready to be awake. Instead, I wandered over to the couch and flopped down onto the cushions and blankets, flipped on the radio and let the music drone on in the background. The couch dipped when Maen joined me, and I crawled over to sit on his lap without a second thought. It was nice for the fifteen minutes that it lasted.

"There's somebody standing outside the window," I said into his shirt. I could feel them hovering there.

"Yeah, I know," he said.

"Are you going to make them wait?"

"For another minute."

"I don't think you're allowed to do that."

"I haven't looked at him yet. He can't prove I'm ignoring him."

"What if he can hear us?"

"He can't."

There was a knock on the glass.

"Are you sure about that?"

"For fuck's sake," Maen muttered. He slid me off his lap and walked over to the slider door, yanked it open. "What?"

"Sir, your help is being requested," an androgynous voice said. "Lord Hokage needs you to report in."

I lifted my face from the blankets and stared at the figure, took in the mask and the uniform, and bit back a frown—it was ANBU. Maen held out his hand and the operative produced a scroll from thin air to place into his palm. His expression remained stoic as he read through it.

"Yeah, alright," Maen said. "Go. I'll be there in five."

The operative disappeared in a flash.

"You're getting called in?" I asked, pushing myself up into a sitting position.

"Briefly," Maen answered. "I'll be back by dinner."

"Oh."

He looked annoyed but not at me. One of his hands swept through his hair. "I'm sorry, kiddo."

I didn't want him to go and leave me alone, wasn't ready to be alone. I wanted him to stay with me. I wanted to be greedy. It wasn't up to me, though, so I said, "It's fine."

Maen disappeared into his bedroom and came out two minutes later in full ANBU attire with a thick-lined owl mask sitting on the side of his head. His time in ANBU was no secret. I saw the tattoo on his bicep more times than I could count, though it was never something I outright asked him about.

He nodded at me on his way out. "I'll be back as soon as I can."

"Bye," I mumbled.

He paused, hesitated, and darted back over to where I was sitting. He dropped a kiss on top of my head and lingered, let out a breath. Then he was gone.

.

.

Some days, Maen hated his job.

She needed him. He couldn't stay with her.

When ANBU called, retired or not, you answered. He didn't have a _choice_ in the matter. The mission fell into his realm of specialty and ANBU was down a captain. It made sense that they were tapping him, he couldn't argue with that, but he still wished they hadn't.

Maen stood on the roof of his building and looked to the Hokage monument. His gaze shifted, drawn to his cousin's house across the compound.

He couldn't decline the mission, but he _could_ make the Hokage wait five more minutes—he had something he needed to do. Hiruzen would understand.

.

.

"Hey."

I jolted, snapped back into reality by the person speaking in front of me. The movement sent the pillow that had been in my lap down to the floor, the blanket strewn over my body sliding down my shoulder.

Shikamaru watched me with an eyebrow raised.

"Hey," I answered.

He threw himself onto the couch beside me and on instinct I repositioned, edged closer so that my shoulder was pressed up into his side. He grunted, adjusted to compensate, and pulled the pillow up from the ground so he could put it under his head.

I waited for him to ask about the mission, to say anything about it, hint towards it, but he didn't. He lay there with his eyes shut and fell asleep after a couple of minutes.

I was grateful for it.

I didn't want to talk about the mission—all I wanted was to not have to be alone. I doubted it was a coincidence, the timing too perfect that Shikamaru should arrive minutes after Maen left.

 _I was grateful for it._

I pulled my legs into my chest and used Shikamaru as a pillow, along with some of the extra blankets littered around the couch. My eyes closed and within seconds I had fallen asleep, dead to the rest of the world.

.

.

They did nothing for the whole of the day.

A few hours were spent sleeping on the couch, of which Shikamaru was the first to wake from. He watched her fitful slumber for a few minutes, her tossing and turning and letting out the odd, muddled whimper, until he decided that Kasumi was better off woken up. He didn't ask what she saw and she didn't offer it to him. The deadened look to her eyes as she rubbed away unshed tears was enough to tell him that it had been nothing good.

She went quiet after that, staring off at nothing in particular while the music from the radio occupied the air around them.

Shikamaru didn't know what to say to her. He knew he should say _something_ , but he had no idea what that something could be. Asking about the mission would aggravate the issue. Nobody told him what happened, save that it had been _bad_ and resulted in the mission being bumped up to a B-rank, and even he knew better than to ask. Casual chatter about what went on over the last couple of weeks while she was gone didn't feel appropriate, either. He found that he didn't have much of anything to say.

The silence, though, wasn't comfortable. It normally was for them. They could go entire days without a word of conversation and it would be fine, but sitting next to her then was the exact opposite of comfortable. It was the nature of the silence. The finality of the silence. The fact that the silence was caused by something being _very, very wrong_ with his best friend and he knew that it was his job to fix it, that had been his job since they were small, but that he didn't know how to fix it.

When it became too much, Shikamaru grabbed Kasumi by the wrist and led her outside.

He didn't know if that would help but at least having more around them than the radio and an empty living room had to be worth something. Kasumi didn't resist or question his actions. She trailed along behind him like a lost duckling and that did more to unsettle Shikamaru then anything else.

He led her into the forest. Past the sunny grass spots, past the gardens. He had a specific location in mind. Not many people knew but if you walked for long enough in the Nara forest, you could happen upon meadows and clearings, breaks in the trees that were favoured by the deer for grazing. Shikamaru's father had shown him years and years ago on a whim, and Shikamaru had visited it ever since when he wanted to get away. He hadn't shown it to anybody else.

They walked for twenty-five minutes and not once did Kasumi ask him where they were going. Her eyes began to clear, shifting around the area in what he knew was curiosity, but she didn't say a single word the entire trip.

They broke through the treeline. Shikamaru let go of her wrist and it fell limp at her side.

"Oh," she mumbled.

Shikamaru shoved his hands in his pockets. "Yeah."

"This is…" She walked forward, blinked. "Wow."

"Pretty cool," he agreed. "Dad brought me here a few years ago. Said that he and Mom would come here a lot before they had me, whenever they needed some time alone."

"I… didn't know there was anything out this far," she said. "I've never walked this deep into the forest."

Shikamaru shrugged. "Most people don't."

He ambled ahead and flopped down onto his back, hands behind his head, eyes locked on the clouds that drifted through the sky. Kasumi hesitated for a few seconds before she joined him. She sat cross-legged, her head shifting around as she admired the meadow.

"This place is like a little slice of heaven," she said.

"Yeah. I like it."

She dropped one of her elbows onto her knee and her chin into her palm. Her other hand fiddled with a flower that jutted out from the ground around her ankles, her thumb flicking over the soft white petal. She plucked it from the ground and held it in front of her face, sniffed it, and set it back behind her ear.

There was life in her eyes again.

She smiled, lifted her chin her lock eyes with him. "Thank you," she murmured.

Shikamaru rolled his head back to stare up at the sky. "'Course."

.

.

It was eight in the evening when Maen came home.

I heard him enter through the front door, the sound of a crinkling bag and the scent of fried seafood accompanying him. I looked up from my book in time to see him walk into the living room in regular ninja attire rather than his ANBU uniform, a bag of takeout in hand. He looked as tired as I felt, his shoulders sagged lower than usual and his eyes half lidded.

He nodded to me. "Hey, kiddo."

"Hi. How was it?"

"About as much fun as I expected," he answered. "You?"

"Good. Thanks for sending over Shika."

Maen snorted, walking through the living room and into the kitchen. "I can't believe you still call him that."

"I'm going to call him that for the rest of his life." I groped for my bookmark and closed up the novel, stood up, stretched. I tossed away my blankets and moved to join him. "What'd you get?"

"Bunch of stuff from the tempura place by Satoshi's. Prawns, starfish, squid, then those sweet-potato ones with the—"

"Spicy honey sauce," I finished. "My favourite."

He smirked. "Yeah." He reached a hand into the bag and pulled out another container. "There's some udon in there, too."

I grabbed us plates while Maen went to go and change into casual clothes. We sat down at the little table in the kitchen, across from each other, and ate in the dim lighting the bulb above our heads provided.

For the first time in weeks, I was aware of the hunger that gnawed at my stomach. It was a sensation I hadn't realized I missed. I didn't have to force my dinner down. I had an appetite, I wanted to finish what I had served to myself, and that was what I did. The empty plate that stared up at me when the meal was finished left me with a sense of catharsis that I couldn't begin to explain.

Maen seemed satisfied when he cleared away the dishes. I offered to help clean up, but he shooed me away. I landed on the couch first and when my eyes began to droop and I was on the verge of falling asleep, I set my sights on his bed. I may have seemingly regained my appetite, but I had no confidence that I could make it through the night alone in a bed yet. Baby steps.

I swapped out the t-shirt I had on for a fresh one, grabbing it from Maen's closet and ignoring the shirt from my own that still sat on the bedside table. Maen walked into the room and rolled his eyes at the sight.

"Really?"

"They're comfortable."

"I know, that's why I own them."

"Are you going to make me take it off?"

He took one look at me and muttered, "Stupid question."

His mouth lifted in a smirk. He lunged forward, faster than I could blink, and wrapped an arm around my waist and tossed me onto the bed, like he used to when I was little. I laughed, like I used to when I was little.

Maen jumped onto the bed beside me and landed with enough force that I bounced up.

It was eight thirty in the evening, still early, still with bits of the sunset tainting the sky, but both of us settled in.

"Goodnight, Maen."

"Night kiddo."

I fell asleep that night with a smile on my face.

Little by little, I was working my way back to normalcy.


	21. Chunin Exams: Part 1

_._

* * *

 _"Leave it like this, please."_

* * *

I stopped in my kata, raised a hand to block out the afternoon sun, and watched as Sasuke approached training ground three with a scruffy ninken in tow.

He acted as if the dog wasn't trotting along at his side. He didn't look down at it once. The dog returned the favour, holding a position three feet from Sasuke's side with his muzzle pointed straight ahead.

"I never knew you were a dog person," I called to him. "Figured you were more into cats."

His face twitched in annoyance, and I got an eyeroll out of it but no verbal response.

Naruto was more forthcoming when he got to the training ground an hour later.

"I just woke up one morning and he was there!" Naruto said. He was grinning from ear to ear, and one of his hands rested on top of the dog's head. "He's really cool. I haven't named him or nothing, but I can do that later. I'm gonna keep him. He eats ramen and stuff, so like, I don't have to worry about dog food."

I looked at the dog, who I swore gave me the canine equivalent of a shrug. "You fed him ramen."

"Well, yeah."

"Dogs can't eat instant ramen."

"What? How come?"

"They're supposed to eat dog kibble or raw meat."

"Oh. I uh… I guess I can pick up some of that. Think Kiba might give me some? He's probably got lots, 'cause of Akamaru."

"Naruto," I said, almost— _almost_ —feeling guilty about having to be the one to say it. "You realize that you can't keep this dog, right?"

"Wha—wait, why not?"

The dog perked up at this. His tail pad against the dirt and he lifted his head up from where it rested on his paws.

"He's one of Kakashi's ninken."

"Eh?"

I reached over and poked at the Henohenomoheji stitched into his shirt. The dog leaned into the contact, eager for affection. "Look."

"I mean, yeah, he's got weird clothes—"

"Henohenomoheji, remember? It goes on scarecrows, like—"

Naruto planted his palm onto his forehead and groaned. "Ah, man!"

"I was gonna say I'm surprised Kakashi didn't send a note, or something, but then I realized that I'm really not." I turned my eye to the dog. "How come you never told him?"

The dog didn't answer.

"He doesn't talk," Naruto said. "I tried."

"He _can_ talk, I think. He's just choosing not to."

"Why'd he do that?"

"He's Kakashi's ninken," I said again. "Do you really expect anything else?"

Naruto scratched the back of his head. "S'pose not." He leaned over to look at where Sasuke sat a ways away. "Hey, Sasuke! Did your dog talk at all?"

Sasuke cracked an eye open just enough to display his dismay at being interrupted. "No."

Naruto looked back to me. "Are you sure he can talk?"

Both of the dogs perked up, and I felt a familiar signature flash in the immediate vicinity. I bit back my response.

"They can both talk quite well, actually."

Naruto jumped. A panicked yelp left his mouth and he scrambled away, one hand up in the direction of the voice. " _Kakashi!_ "

"Boss!" both of the dogs cried at once.

The one at Naruto's side hopped up and moved to sit in front of Kakashi, tail thumping against the ground, while the other rose from his spot across the field and bounded over with his tongue flapping out around his jowls. Kakashi bent down and placed a hand on either of their heads. The expression on his face held genuine affection, and I swore that if he were alone with them, the next thing to leave his mouth would be babytalk.

"Thank you both for your good work," he said. "I'll call on you again in a bit."

"Got it," they said, again in unison.

A puff of smoke was all that marked them as having been there.

Kakashi turned to us and clapped his hands together. "Alright kiddies, go get warmed up. We've got a busy day ahead of us."

.

.

Kakashi sat across from me and stared.

Naruto and Sasuke were in the forest behind us, the sound of their bickering just audible from where we were. They were tasked with learning how to tree walk in a week. I figured they'd have it figured out in three days' time, at most.

I let the silence hold for a few minutes before I said, "Alright then, I'll bite." I leant back on my hands, and the grass poked through the mesh along my forearms to tickle my skin. "Any reason in particular that we're having a staring contest?" Kakashi blinked. "A staring contest that I've now won."

"Ah, right." He shifted, elbow on his knee and chin cupped in his palm. "I want to talk to you about your current skills."

"What about them?"

"Well, you're a taijutsu specialist who uses some odd, bastardized version of the Konoha standard, which focuses on defensive maneuvers. You've got a kekkei genkai which will be very effective as a way to make stealth kills or sneak through enemies while out on missions once you've mastered it. You've also got chain-based weapons which can be effective at range but not at close quarters, which is where the rest of your abilities function best at." He squared me with a look. "From the outside looking in, you don't appear to have any direction. Am I wrong?"

I swallowed. "No."

"Mmm." The expression on his face as he watched me was odd. It wasn't anything I had seen on him before. I was used to bored, sleepy, fake cheer, and various degrees of the in between. What I saw now was focused, _present_ , hidden beneath an otherwise tired face. Determined, almost. There was intent there, and that was something I found more comforting than anything I had ever seen from Kakashi. "You don't have anything you considered specializing in?"

"Tracking," I blurted out.

He raised his eyebrow. "Is that so?"

I hesitated. "Maybe?"

It was the first thing to enter my mind.

Of the field specializations, it was the least dangerous. The fact of the matter was that I wasn't suited for in village specializations. I would never be a pencil pusher. I would never be an interrogator. I would never be a strategist. I had too much potential to be useful out in the field for that to fly with the village.

Tracking, in and of itself, carried _less_ risk than a lot of other specializations. Unless it was a solo mission, you got sent with other ninja who would be there for the sole purpose of being useful in a combat scenario. Even better were the missions where an item was the goal, not a person, and the chance for combat further decreased.

If I thought I could manage being a recon specialist then I would have pushed for that, but recon involved infiltration and infiltration involved people skills and I lacked those to the point where I doubted I could ever succeed in that specialization. Recon had its own dangers, though.

Tracking would be my best bet. As it was, with my skill in chakra control for enhancing my senses and my extensive chakra radar, I had potential for it.

He made a noise of indifference. "It's a start. I want you to look into finding a more offensive, agility-based taijutsu style. Something fast. I also want you to practice grabbing hold of things with those chains. They may not have much potential for you to use in combat, but they can be used to make up range and catch fleeing targets." He scratched his head, paused. "I suppose I can start you on enhancing your senses for learning to track through the week."

I stared at Kakashi like he'd grown a third head.

He was being helpful; he was taking initiative as our sensei. It was so opposite from the sensei who tossed a ninjutsu scroll at me and left me to my own devices that all I had to stop myself from double checking the signature just to be sure somebody else wasn't sitting in his place.

"Okay," was all I said.

"Good." He pulled down his hitae-ate and opened his sharingan. "Try and channel as much chakra into your nose as you can. I'll tell you what you're doing wrong."

.

.

Through his sharingan, Kakashi watched the chakra travel up through her paths, flit around her chest, worm its way through her throat, and enter the nasal cavity. Her control over the chakra didn't waver for a second the entire trip. If he hadn't sat through the last two hours of her doing the exact same thing over and over without any breaks, he never would have guessed; she showed no hint of fatigue.

It came time for the hard part: coating the entire cavity with a layer of chakra.

She thinned and spread her chakra—Kakashi could see her nose twitch as the chakra began to do its work and she was flooded with feedback from her enhanced sense—around the area. It held for a second, her face scrunched up in discomfort, and her control over the chakra grew shaky. Kasumi sneezed. At the sudden movement, her chakra snapped away from her and slithered back into her reserves.

"Fuck," she groaned.

She broke from her meditative position to flop back on the grass, ever dramatic. She lay there for a second. Kakashi saw her chest rise and fall as she took a deep breath. Then she pulled herself back up and drew her legs into a cross, straightened her back, and settled her hands in her lap again.

Kakashi raised an eyebrow, expectant.

"Yeah, yeah," she muttered. "Lost focus."

"Correct."

"All I could smell was grass and sweat." She cast her eyes over to where the boys were throwing themselves at the trees, having not stopped since Kakashi set them with the task either. He could see the sweat staining their clothes from where he sat.

Kakashi hummed. "Yes," he answered. "You've been working hard. Perspiration is a normal bodily reaction."

She turned her gaze back to him and shrugged. "I smell fine—it's you, I think. I always heard that old people sweat constantly, but I'd never had to find out for myself." She tilted her head. "Is it true that you start sweating in weird places, too?"

Kakashi treated her to a cheery eye-smile. "Channel your chakra again."

She rolled her eyes and gave a muttered "asshole" under her breath, which she didn't bother trying to hide, but did as she was asked.

Despite the running commentary, Kakashi found himself surprised by how quickly she picked things up and how well she applied his corrections. She was a fast learner. If he had bothered to teach her anything himself in the past, instead of just throwing a scroll at her and leaving her to her own devices, he might have already known that.

Kasumi had the chakra over her passage, sneezed, and again the chakra faded. "Fuck." She raised an arm to rub at her nose. "It feels so weird."

"You get used to it," Kakashi said. "Try again." When she squared him with an unamused look, he offered her another eyesmile. "Only way to get used to it is to keep going."

He expected her to throw another barb his way, but she just heaved a sigh. "Yeah, I know." She closed her eyes and began to channel her chakra without another complaint.

Kakashi watched her. He found it funny that of his team, Naruto and Sasuke were the two who grabbed the most attention—if anybody were to ask him, he'd tell them that he was most fascinated with Kasumi, for better or worse.

The two boys were predictable once you spent long enough around them and got over their respective statuses as the village jinchuuriki and the last Uchiha. His kunoichi, however?

The chakra spread out and covered Kasumi's entire nasal cavity. She managed to keep it there for five or so seconds, the control imperfect as minor wisps escaped her grasp during that time, before all it of fell away.

Kasumi opened her eyes and rubbed at her nose, but there was a victorious grin on her face that Kakashi had never seen before. Their gaze met. Without a word from either of them, she went right back to channelling her chakra.

 _Yeah_ , Kakashi thought. _She's definitely the interesting one._

.

.

I found myself moving further away from the village rather than towards it after team training.

Something on my chakra sense caught my attention. I could sense Lee in the back, where he always trained, but he wasn't alone; there was somebody else with him, and it wasn't either of his teammates. It was one of the last people I would ever expect to be hanging around Lee, especially in a training scenario.

I walked onto the training ground, hands on my hips, and eyes on the body collapsed in a heap in front of Lee. "You replaced me while I was gone, Lee."

"Ah! Kasumi!" he cried. "It is very good to see you!"

"Yeah, you too." I stifled a laugh. "It's uh… nice to see you, Sakura. You're looking well."

I heard a groan come from her body. That was a sensation I could relate to; the mere thought of my first weeks of training with Lee was enough to make my entire body ache.

"Sakura has decided to train with me! I hope you do not mind!"

"Not at all," I said. "But uh… out of curiosity… what spurred this all on?"

Sakura unfurled herself and rolled onto her back. Her face was beaded with sweat, the wisps of pink hair that escaped her braid sticking to it. Her chest heaved. Still, there was a tiny smile on her face.

"Ino and I… were looking for you… a week ago… and when… we got here… Lee was here… but you weren't… so we trained… with him instead…"

"And you came back," I said. "I'm… impressed, actually."

Of the two, I wasn't surprised that it was Sakura to stick it out over Ino. Both girls could be stubborn, but I had always known Sakura to be the more bullheaded of the two, which was exactly what it took to train with Lee. There was also the fact that Ino could get away with skipping out on honing her taijutsu skills. She had a family technique to fall back on and a team designed to keep her safe while she used it, and Sakura benefitted from neither of those luxuries.

It was the same reason Sakura stuck it out training with Tsunade in another life. It was the same reason Sakura had the guts to ask to train with Tsunade in the first place. Two different girls, two different outlooks.

The smile on her face widened. "Ino said it was… too much… with her team… training too… She wants to keep training… with you… but… I kind of like… training with Lee…" She let out a long, gusty breath. "It really… hurts, though…"

"It hurts less after a few weeks," I said. "And if that's the case, then you're getting the better end of the deal. Lee's a far better training partner than I am."

"You are very kind!"

"I mean, it's true. You're fully into taijutsu and you've been doing it for way longer than I have. A lot of what I know, I learnt from you."

His cheeks lit up tomato red and he jerked forward into a deep bow. "I am unworthy of this compliment!"

I tapped my knuckles on the back of his head. "Quit that." He straightened. "I came here to ask you something, anyways. Any chance you have a fast, fluid kind of taijutsu style that you can show me?"

"I do not at this juncture!" he said. "However, if you give me a day, I can ask Gai if he has anything he can suggest!"

"Appreciated," I said. I gave Sakura one last, amused look. "I'll leave you two to your training. Good luck, Sakura!"

* * *

Shikaku turned to look at me as I stepped onto the porch of the Nara household. "How's your shogi game these days?"

"Near-nonexistent, as usual," I answered. I settled down across from him. "We're not going to make it more than a few turns into any games we start. Sorry to tell you, if that's all you called me here for."

He snorted. "It's not," he said. "I actually called you here because Hokage-sama asked me to."

"Okay..."

"When were you planning on turning in your mission report?"

"Oh. That."

"That," Shikaku said. "It was supposed to be in the last time you saw your sensei. If you had any other sensei, I'm sure Hokage-sama would trust your sensei to get them from you."

"Kakashi didn't hand his in either, did he?"

"Nope."

"Right, of course."

"One of your other teammates did, though," he went on. "Sasuke Uchiha gave his directly to the desk chunin this morning."

"And Naruto didn't."

Shikaku set me with a look that clearly asked "what do you think?" as he shuffled the pieces on the board into their starting arrangement.

"I was going to turn it in soon?"

"Really? Maen said that he hadn't seen you start working on it."

I muttered a curse. "Traitor."

"It doesn't matter," Shikaku said. "Hokage-sama asked me to get a verbal report from you instead." When I offered him nothing but a stare, Shikaku raised an eyebrow. "That's not optional, either. Naruto has somebody going to him right now to do the same."

"Who?"

"Iruka Umino, I heard." Shikaku sat back, hands folded into his sleeves and eyes holding their usual sharp glint. "You can have first move," he said. I looked down at the board and lapsed into silence—I was going to at least try and put up some resistance. "I want you to talk and play."

I opened my mouth to protest and shut it in the next instance.

A serious game of shogi was played in near silence because all the attention of the players was on the game and how best to finish it. What they think their opponent might do, what they'd do in this or that amount of moves. Planning. If Shikaku wanted me to talk while I played, then I knew he was trying to take my attention either from the report I was about to give or the game that I was about to play.

Which was the more likely motivator was obvious; Shikaku didn't need to distract me to thoroughly cream me in shogi.

"Yeah," I murmured. "Right. Okay."

I recounted leaving the village, scouting on the trip through Fire Country, encountering the thugs and the demon brothers. Shikaku didn't utter a single word. I didn't have any issues.

Then I got to Zabuza and Haku's deaths and things went sour.

"I could still feel his chakra," I was saying. "I knew that he wasn't dead—Kakashi didn't, though. He was just talking to the hunter-nin. I couldn't get a message to him without alerting the hunter-nin. So I… did what I knew I had to do. I threw a kunai aimed at his neck."

The hand that I held the shogi piece in shook. Shikaku flicked his eyes down to my hand, placed his piece, and nodded. "Your turn."

I blinked. I did so after a moment of contemplation.

A couple more moves passed in silence.

"You threw the kunai…" Shikaku prompted.

"Right yeah… I… threw the kunai." I took a deep breath. "The hunter-nin reacted. They lunged for the kunai and knocked it away, and then Kakashi… he got the hunter-nin in the throat with a kunai… at the same time. I think. The hunter-nin fell to the ground and Kakashi finished the job."

My eyes wandered over to the forest, the sky, the grassy expanse behind the house. I could feel a couple of deer lingering near the area but none of them ventured close enough that they were visible.

"Your move."

My eyes jerked back to the board—Shikaku had taken his turn. Moreover, I'd fallen silent.

"Kakashi passed out from chakra exhaustion right after that. I had Naruto and Sasuke take him ahead with the client while I…" I forced out a breath. "While I cleaned up. I followed protocol as best as I could. I diluted any bodily fluids with dirt and scattered them around the area. And I slit Zabuza's throat and burned both his and the hunter-nin's bodies." My chest tightened, and I ignored the near-dead tone that I spoke the words in.

"What did you do with the sword?"

"What?"

"Zabuza Momochi's sword," Shikaku clarified. "What did you do with it?"

"Oh," I murmured. I hadn't thought about the sword since storing it, and with so much having happened since then, my possessing it had slipped my mind. "I stored it. It's still sitting at the bottom of my mission pack—I haven't fully unloaded it yet."

Shikaku nodded. "Hold onto it for now, I guess. We'll see what Hokage-sama wants done with it. Take your turn and keep going." His face gave away no reaction to the information that I had given him.

I put my piece on the board and continued my story. At the points where I stopped, zoned out, Shikaku would give me a minute or two to gather myself before he pushed me forward again, usually with a reminder to take my move. The game did its job in keeping me grounded throughout the recounting.

It got harder the longer things went on, though. Remembering what happened to Inari, the state we left his life in, with no home and no living relatives to call his own and nothing to his name but the clothes on his back. What was he thinking, right now in Wave? How was he handling everything? Did he hate us? I wouldn't blame him if he did. We left his entire life in shambles without so much as a parting word—we ran away with our tails between our legs like cowards. It was the right thing to do for ourselves, I stood by that much, but that didn't change the reality of our actions.

Kakashi _needed_ proper medical attention for the wound on his arm, before the wound on his arm managed to get any worse. I saw the scar it left during our training session a couple of days ago. It was thick and jagged, half of it clearly visible while the rest was hidden by his sleeve.

I hadn't been in any condition to stick around, either. I had hit the point of exhaustion and then flown straight past it, and I hadn't been prepared to face that. I had never imagined things would go the way they did. It wasn't a mistake I would ever make again, not on my life, but it left me ragged. I would have been barely better than dead weight if we stuck around.

Still, still, still.

Inari deserved better than to be abandoned and to have to hear the news from a few people that had no involvement in the situation. He deserved better than having to _be_ in that situation.

We failed him, and we did it so many times over.

"Kasumi, _stop_. Breathe."

I jolted back to myself and heard the heavy, near-panicked breathing. My own breathing. I was hyperventilating. There was a wetness on my cheeks—I was crying, too.

 _Breathe._

"In and out," Shikaku said. "That's all."

I pulled air in, forced myself to hold it, and then let it out again.

Repeat.

Repeat.

 _Breathe._

In, out. Repeat.

Once I finally had my breathing under control, I muttered a small, "Fuck."

Shikaku smirked. "I'll let you get away with that one, I suppose. Have you considered going to talk to a Yamanaka?" He looked down at the board. "Your turn."

"Not really."

Shikaku shrugged. "Up to you, then. Anything else you need to add?"

"No."

"Great," he said. He slid his hand from out of his sleeve and set a piece down on the board to end the game—he won. "Go clean up and help Yoshino finish cooking. I'm going to go grab Maen; you two are staying for dinner."

He'd been dancing around me for the last twenty minutes, stalling the game. He could have ended it at any point with a single move. The only reason I lasted as long as I did—nearly an hour and a half, if I were to guess—was because he let me.

"Maen didn't mention that," I said.

"I just decided," he answered. He stood and stretched. When I didn't immediately move, he jerked his chin towards the house. "Off you go. I'll be back in a few minutes."

He turned and shambled off, leaving me alone on the porch. I was certain there was something more to it but I no longer had it in me to care at that point.

I went inside and the board, completed game on its surface, was all that remained.

* * *

"I've called you all here today to discuss the upcoming chunin exams."

A low murmur passed over the crowd that Hiruzen hushed with a single raised hand. Kakashi watched Asuma and Kurenai whisper to each other from the corner of his eye, saw the fourth jonin beside them shift in discomfort. He knew what they all intended to do.

"As you all know, things are moving along with the exams," Hiruzen continued. "The Forest is being readied as we speak, and the last preparations on the arena were completed earlier this week. All that's left now is for our village to decide who we put forth as chunin candidates." He gestured to the four of them who stood in a line near the front of the crowd. "Those in charge of the rookie genin please step forward."

All of them obliged.

"Kakashi, Kurenai, Asuma, and Yasuo. What do you say? Do any of you recommend your students, despite their inexperience? All of your teams have completed the minimum of eight missions that are required of them, but they are still rather green." Hiruzen looked to the right of the line. "Yasuo?"

Yasuo jolted, and his hand shot up to rest in front of his face. "I lead squad three. Sakura Haruno, Minori Funai, and Nao Hoga. I, Yasuo Enomoto, recommend all three of them for the chunin selection exams."

Kakashi felt the entire gathering of jonin behind him stiffen at that.

"My squad's ten," Asuma said before the crowd fully quieted. "Ino Yamanaka, Shikamaru Nara, and Choji Akimichi. I, Asuma Sarutobi, recommend all three for the chunin selection exams."

"I have squad number eight. Hinata Hyuga, Kiba Inuzuka, Shino Aburame. I, Kurenai Yuki, recommend all three."

Every eye in the room fell on Kakashi. They expected him to do the same.

Kakashi's gaze wandered to the back of the room, from where he felt a familiar, heated gaze rest on the back of his head.

Two weeks ago, he might have fulfilled their expectations. He might have brushed off the risk as being miniscule, given that he faced the exams at the age of six and came out unscathed. He might have deemed the potential pain as being valuable, something that could be a teaching aid. He might have ignored the chance of death and permanent mental or physical scarring.

Now, though? After everything?

He didn't think that was a lesson they needed anymore.

Kakashi brought his gaze back to the front of the room. "I'm the leader of squad seven. I won't be entering any of my students in the exams."

The entire room broke out in hushed whispers and mutterings. The heat against the back of Kakashi's head evaporated.

"Hold on just a minute!" a voice cried from the back. Iruka shoved his way through the crowd and situated himself beside Kakashi and the rest of the jonin sensei. "All nine of those names are of students I had at the Academy! I know their skills and abilities. They've got great promise, but they're not ready yet. They need more experience before they're tested. If they try now, they're just going to fail the exam."

Kurenai frowned. She turned to face Iruka, one hand settling on her hip. "Yes, but—"

"No!" Iruka interrupted. "This could _destroy_ them. Is that what you want?" Iruka turned his eye to Kakashi. "Just ask Kakashi-san what happens to your students when you push them into a situation they're not fully prepared for."

 _Ah_ , Kakashi thought. _Another person who's mad at me._

Kurenai cast Kakashi a glance but otherwise ignored the latter of Iruka's comments. "Of course I don't want to destroy them, but they're _my_ students," she answered. "You should trust me to know what's best for them."

"How could you know? You've barely been teaching them for a month!"

"Enough," Hiruzen said. "You've both made your points. I find that, in this instance, I am more inclined to listen to Iruka." He took a puff of his pipe and his eyes gained a grandfatherly glint to them, his gaze roving over the gathered jonin sensei. "He clearly feels very strongly about this—more strongly than you all, it seems. These genin are young and will have many opportunities in the future. There's no reason to rush any of them."

Kakashi himself didn't agree with Hiruzen's decision, but he did agree with the reasoning. Iruka made a better case than Kurenai, and neither Asuma nor Yasuo even attempted to argue against what Iruka said.

"Hokage-sama—"

"No, Kurenai. I've made my decision. Your students will have to wait for the next exams to have their chance."

With those parting words, Hiruzen disappeared in a puff of smoke and left the rest of the room in stunned silence.


	22. Chunin Exams: Part 2

_._

* * *

 _Be the heroine in_

 _your life, not the victim._

* * *

I shoved one hand in the pocket of my shorts and raised another to my forehead to block out the sun.

The marketplace was crawling with people out for an evening in the village.

Shops fronts sparkled in the light, freshly cleaned and polished, and a litany of new stalls lined the streets, most with cheap food and trinkets that could be peddled off at a breakneck pace. ninja, placed in strategic but inconspicuous places, watched the goings on of the street with hawk eyes. Foreigners caught the brunt of their attention. More and more of them had poured into the village over the last week. They were easy to spot amidst the general populace from their gawking and frantic hand waving in an attempt to ward off the staunch late-summer heat, their clothing ill-suited for Konoha weather.

The village was abuzz with activity; something was going on.

I jerked my chin towards a man whose kimono was every shade of blue on the spectrum. "What's with all these people?" I asked, just to be certain.

Maen took a bite of his chicken skewer. He side-eyed me and the man in the kimono, and put his attention back on his food. "Specifics, kiddo."

"Foreigners, patrols running around, people freshening up," I said. "Enough?"

"Sure," he said over his food. He chewed and swallowed. "Chunin exams are coming up."

A litany of emotions charged through me, dread paramount to them all, standing on top of the mountain that was my mind and shoving its black flag into the depths of my brain.

I was ill-prepared for the chunin exams.

Most of the last few weeks were spent getting back to a normal after Wave. Getting back into a regular training schedule with a Kakashi who had a purpose, getting back into training _with the boys_ and their not quite different but not quite the same dynamic, getting back into taking missions. The chunin exams were there, but they were a destination at the end of a road which I wasn't nearing the end to—or, that I _didn't_ think I was nearing the end to. I expected more notice before it arrived.

Now it was less than a week away, and I had absolutely zero idea of how I was going to try and handle _everything_ around it.

My hands bunched up in my pockets.

I forced my feet to keep moving steady on our path through the village even as a cold rock hit my gut and creeped out into my appendages. "They are?"

Maen nodded. "I figured your sensei would tell you that they were coming up."

"No," I mumbled. "He hasn't mentioned anything about it—he didn't even show up for training today."

I expected the usual annoyance that Maen showed whenever Kakashi did things like this, but none came—Maen shrugged it off. "Either way, all the jonin had a meeting for it earlier today, probably where your sensei skipped out to." Maen tossed his skewer into the air like a senbon and it arched into the nearest alley. "Konoha's hosting the exams this year. It starts in a bit less than a week; all the guest ninja are going to start arriving tomorrow."

Less than a week away.

My mind rolled over that date and what threads of the timeline were holed away in the back of my head.

In the time since Wave, Kakashi made no mention of the Chunin exams—meaning that he _also_ never gave us our forms to enter the exam. There was no concrete amount of days in my head around when we should have gotten them, but something didn't sit right, sent that cold feeling creeping further through my body.

I bit my lip. I felt the sting of my nails in my palm, my knuckles growing tighter.

I dropped the thought—later, later, it would be dealt with later—and latched onto something else.

"Were you tapped to help with the exams?" I pulled at a faux thread on his shirt, over his bicep and about where his ANBU tattoo sat. My finger poked it.

Maen looked down at my hand and where it was. He frowned a little; the underlying meaning of the question wasn't lost on him. "Somewhat," he said and gently flicked my hand from his arm. "It hasn't been fully hammered out."

"Ah."

"It'll only be a few days here and there. Not full time."

 _Not a regular rotation_. Likely just for the actual tests themselves, then.

I leaned into his side and he moved his arm to accommodate. "Okay," I said.

His ribs expanded against my head, a sigh. "I'm sorry."

"I know you are."

.

.

The sky cried from sunny eyes outside, and I watched the water fall upside down, head leant back against the mat, and listened as Shikamaru's snores accompanied the pitter of rain against dirt.

I pushed my shoulder further into his side and pulled at the blanket strewn over the two of us. "Hey, Shika?"

His chakra sharpened, the way it does when people are on the verge of consciousness. He grunted. One eye cracked open to look at me, and when it closed, he went to face the other way, his hand reaching out to make a feeble grab at the blanket.

I held the blanket further away. "Shika, come on."

Another, sleepier grunt. I was losing him already.

" _Shikamaru_."

"What?" he groaned. His arm, draped over his eyes, flopped onto the floor beside him with no drama spared.

"I wanna ask you something."

"Uh huh."

"You can go back to sleep right after."

"Or you can wait until I wake up," he mumbled.

"It'll take a second. It's an easy question." I paused. "Please?"

He whimpered, pathetic and small like a wounded animal or a newborn kitten, and rolled over to meet my eye. "Yeah, yeah. What's goin' on?"

"Did Asuma enter you guys in the chunin exams?"

"Nope."

"Did he even bring it up?"

"Nah." He squinted at me. He was more awake now, and squinted at me. "Why?"

I looked back out the glass door to the porch, distracted. "Nothing. Thanks—go back to sleep."

I felt him wait. Then, he turned back over and murmured, "Sure."

Shikamaru went back to sleep; I lost myself in my thoughts.

A rainbow formed in the sky at the line of the horizon, but I could only see a sliver of it peek above the Nara forest as the rest was obscured by clouds.

* * *

I flipped the page of my book from my seat on the steps of the mission tower, eyes roaming over the words without really reading them. It was some novel I grabbed from my shelves on the way out, a product of habit.

A light breeze rolled over the area. It tousled my hair and sent the dirt at my feet dancing.

More of my attention was busy watching the signatures of the various ninja around the village—the foreign ones specifically who had been arriving since early in the morning. I could pick the important ones out of the crowd because each had a cluster of ANBU trailing behind them.

Though, even if I wanted to read the book, whether or not I could do it over the bickering of Naruto and Sasuke on either side of me was questionable.

"I wonder what we're gonna be doing," Naruto said from my left. "Maybe gettin' cats outta trees, or something… or picking up garbage again. If we go on a garbage mission, I bet I'll collect the most garbage like last time!"

A scoff from my right. "Whatever."

"It's true! I'm totally going to do it!" Naruto near shouted.

Without looking I reached out a hand and pressed down on the top of his head, planting his butt back down onto the ground on reflex.

"Sure," Sasuke said.

I heard the fart-like sound and felt bits of spittle hit my arm—Naruto blew a raspberry at Sasuke. A fleck of spit landed on Sasuke's chin. An aura of "I can't believe we breathe the same air" washed over Sasuke and the whole of his expression shifted to match his disdain. Eyes narrowed, eyebrows knit, nose scrunched, mouth turned down.

I moved my hand from Naruto's head and dragged my arm over his shoulder on the way to wipe off the spit. "That's disgusting," I said.

Naruto tore his eyes from Sasuke. He looked down at my arm, the streaks it left on his shirt. Naruto cleaned off the remains from either side of his mouth and laughed, blushy and sheepish. "Sorry Kaka."

"It's fine."

Sasuke muttered something under his breath.

"Eh?" Naruto shouted, leaning around me to glare at Sasuke. "What was that, you—"

From behind us, a voice cut him off and drawled, "What wonderful sounds to hear first thing in the morning."

Naruto screamed and Sasuke's eyes bugged from his head, his shoulder stiff.

I turned the page of my book. I watched the entrance of the village, waiting for a specific signature, the one I was confident I'd be able to pick apart from the rest as soon as I caught a hint of it on my radar. "It's two in the afternoon."

"Yes," Kakashi said. "First thing in the morning. A perfect time for a mission."

"Sensei! Stop _doing_ that!"

"Doing what?"

"Sneaking up on us!"

"You're a ninja," Sasuke scoffed, as if he hadn't been startled. "Don't let him sneak up on you, then."

"I suppose both of you are going to need more enemy identification training, then," Kakashi said. I looked up from my book and could see the outline of his grin beneath his mask, though I couldn't tell whether or not it was genuine. "The dogs will be thrilled to hear it."

Naruto moaned in remembrance of the last time Kakashi made them do that, all the bruises and torn clothes and slobber. He fell back against the ground in typical cartoonish, Naruto fashion.

Sasuke further stiffened.

"Oh, that sounds like fun," I said.

"You're just sayin' that cause you don't have to do it," Naruto said.

"I did it once, remember? I whipped both of you in it."

"You did not," Sasuke said. "You barely beat us, and it was only because you've got chakra sense."

"I had five less hits than either of you and only two of my hits were lethal," I said. "Not to mention that Kakashi went harder on me to compensate."

Sasuke scowled, arms crossed over his chest. "No, he didn't."

"Yes, he did."

Both of us looked to Kakashi who, rather than settle anything, stood up and turned on his heel towards the stairs of the mission tower. "Come along, adorable genin. Let's go get a mission." He beckoned us with a hand waved over his shoulder.

I pulled Naruto up from the ground and propelled him forward, a hand between his shoulder blades. Sasuke walked behind us, sullen and totally-not-even-a-little-bit pouting.

Kakashi made it to the front desk first. He exchanged a couple of words with the desk chunin there. Before we could make it to him, Kakashi was on his way again with a bobbed nod and empty hands, following the chunin's gesture towards the stairs. I steered Naruto in that direction.

We were headed for the Hokage's office because, no matter what was happening, the Hokage made time to give us our missions—the trip to the desk chunin was a formality. I figured it was his own little way of keeping up with Naruto.

The door was opened for us as soon as we got up to the office.

Hiruzen nodded to us as we entered. His pipe sat in the corner of his mouth and lazy ribbons of smoke rose up from the chamber.

Kakashi gave his two-fingered salute to the Hokage. "Yo."

"Hey! Hey gramps, we're here!"

"Obviously he knows that," Sasuke muttered.

Naruto whirled around to glare at him. " _Hey_ —"

Of the four of us collected in front of Hiruzen's desk, I was the first to bow. "Lord Hokage."

His eye twinkled. "Hello, Kasumi."

Kakashi placed a hand on the back of Naruto and Sasuke's heads and pushed them down into a bow, and followed with one of his own.

Hiruzen waved his hand. "Appreciated, but not needed." He shuffled through a drawer in the bottom of his desk and came back up with a scroll in hand. "Now, then. A mission is why you are here, yes?"

"Yes."

"Here you are," Hiruzen said.

Kakashi reached forward and took the scroll from them. He unfurled it, read it. "We'll accept this," Kakashi said.

"Hey! What is it?"

Kakashi pushed the scroll into a pocket of his flak jacket and turned to smile at us. "D-rank mission. Meet me at the park three blocks southeast of our location."

He disappeared in a cloud of shunshin smoke and leaves.

"Wait—ah, _man_."

Sasuke rolled his eyes. "Just go, id—" I glared at him, ready to lash out at him, but he seemed to catch himself first. His eyes cut to me and back to Naruto. " _Naruto_."

Naruto grinned at that, all his indignation evaporated. "Right, yeah! Let's go!"

It didn't escape my notice that _neither_ of the boys were clamouring for C-rank missions again after Wave. Naruto never brought it up doing another one when he contemplated what our mission of the day might be. When we were handed a D-rank, like right then, Sasuke didn't sneer and Naruto gave no protest.

The sharp glint in Hiruzen's gaze and posture and expression as he watched the two of them shoot out of the room, near drowned out by the normal grandfatherly warmth, clued me in that I wasn't the only one to pick up on it.

I bowed again. "Thank you, Lord Hokage."

He raised an eyebrow. "Thanking me for giving you a D-rank mission?"

"Yeah," I said. "I am."

"That's quite the opposite reaction compared to what I get from young genin. Few are grateful to be doing chores."

Unable to find something to say, I shrugged.

The glint grew sharper.

Hiruzen nodded and pulled the pipe from his mouth, bits of smoke escaping from between cracked, aged lips, like the sputtering whispers of a drowned out campfire. "Good luck, Kasumi Kurosawa."

My tongue still tied, a nod was all I could offer him. He responded in kind.

I fled out the window behind the Hokage and didn't look back.

.

.

"You beat us here?"

I glanced down from my spot at the top of a tree near the entrance to the park. Kakashi sat at the bottom of the same tree and took refuge in the shelter of its shade, his little orange book open in front of him.

" _Shockingly_ , I did," I said to Naruto. I jumped down and landed in a crouch in front of them. "You two made it easier for me, with all that bickering."

It _also_ helped that I dropped the chakra from my weights and skyrocketed across the rooftops while they ran through the streets, but they didn't need to know that.

Kakashi handed each of us a bag to put all of the garbage in.

"Hey! Look! I was totally right—we're doing garbage again!"

Sasuke took his bag without a word, as did I.

With all three of us ready, Kakashi went back to his spot under the tree and started to read again, the ever helpful sensei.

"I'm going to collect the most garbage." Naruto grinned, stupid and wide. " _Again_."

Sasuke set his jaw and scowled. "Not happening."

"He probably will," I said. "Unless you've figured out a way to beat his clones in the last two weeks."

They were both in front of me, staring each other down.

I blinked.

The near-empty playground, near-devoid of children who were all off for afternoon naps or in their classes, was filled with clones, and a single Sasuke darting around like a bat out of hell amidst them. I winced at the sudden burst of chakra around me.

I looked down at my bag, limp in my hand at my side, and instead went to sit beside Kakashi. Kakashi regarded me with a blank eye.

"They don't need me. They'll be done in five minutes, if even that," I said. "I'm more likely to just get run over by a clone or something instead of being helpful."

Kakashi considered this. His eye glanced down towards my wrists, where my bracelets, ever present, jangled against my skin.

He disappeared in a puff of smoke and reappeared again with a couple of drink containers. He pointed to a spot a bit away from him. "Sit," he said. "While they do that, you're going to practice grabbing these with your chain weapons." He tilted his head and added, " _Without_ damaging them."

 _Whatever._

I sat.

Kakashi set up the cans across from me and went back to his book.

I fell into a state of concentration. All I watched was the chain. I kept my chakra sense closed, not wanting it open with so many Naruto running around—I couldn't fully cut off my awareness of them, but I could limit it. My aiming and control suffered but it was good practice all the same.

Once some of the clones popped, the amount of garbage dwindling, I let my chakra sense open up again and prepared to get back to the activity.

Except that something caught my attention—the same something that I watched for most of the morning. There were at least three signatures walking through the market street together, maybe a fourth, but I would never know that on my own. One signature far overshadowed not only the rest of the group, but a chunk of other people. Anybody within a five metre radius of the signature was blotted out by the viscous signature, swallowed up by its malicious depths.

It was big, it was angry, and it was far more terrifying than I imagined it'd be.

Naruto's signature was inflated because of Kurama. It always had been and it always would be, but Naruto's energy, cheery and kind, dulled the volatile nature of his signature even with the chakra of Kurama sealed in his belly.

The signature that couldn't belong to anybody but Gaara didn't have such a buffer around it, and was a ball of black that sent shivers up and down my spine. The thought of standing next to him spurred on another round of shivers. Zabuza and his killing intent felt like a kitten in comparison. Gaara was a blind and insistent amalgamation of rage that doled out killing intent at a steady pace. I could feel the world ripple in his wake, people skittering around him as he walked.

The sound of plastic cracking chafed my ears.

I dropped back to myself. Kakashi had his eye trained on the bottle, but I could feel him study me. "I believe I said that you weren't supposed to break it," Kakashi said.

I released the chain and it slipped back into the seal on the thick silver bangle. The bottle fell back to the grass and rolled away.

"Yeah."

All of the questions raised the day before by Maen breached my mind with renewed vigor.

Gaara was here. The chunin exams were on their way.

My eye strayed to Naruto—wasn't he supposed to have an encounter with Gaara around this point? The specifics of it were lost on me, except that Konohamaru and Sasuke were involved, along with the other sand siblings.

Konohamaru was on the other side of the village and Naruto was right by me, not in position for an encounter. It would happen later. At some point later in the day, all of them would converge.

In the back of my mind, I wondered if that sentence needed an 'if at all' tacked on to finish it.

I'd have to wait and see. Conclusions couldn't be jumped to yet.

My hand clenched and my nails, painted the dark green of the Nara forest, created a new set of crescent marks in my palm.

I had to wait.

.

.

I waited.

For the rest of the day, I waited, and never did their signatures meet.

.

.

The next day came and went.

I spent all my time watching the signatures trace their paths through the village. No meeting between Naruto and Gaara. When training came, Kakashi sent us off without forms for the exams.

The marks in my palms were beginning to take a permanent residence on my skin.

.

.

I stared at the spot Kakashi occupied seconds ago. Wisps of hair and my clothes clung to my skin, slick with sweat, and I was covered in dirt beneath the layer of mesh on my arms and legs—it didn't bother me. Needing a shower after training was normal, expected, even something I _liked_ , because it was a tangible sign of my hard work.

The chunin exams were set to start in three days.

I stared down at my hands. They were left empty when, by all accounts, they should be grasped around a sheet of paper that marked my entrance into the chunin exams. All I saw were the marks of my nails.

Without our participation in the exams…

That was the moment where the situation fully sank in: how thoroughly I may have fucked over the timeline with my actions in Wave. Small things were expected. Small things _were the point_. I wanted minor adjustments here and there that resulted in improvement—specifically when I was involved.

I couldn't deny it anymore.

Without the exams…

I rubbed at my face, leaving streaks of dirt over my cheeks.

 _Without the exams…_

My mind struggled to wrap over how the sentence could even possibly end. I didn't _know_ what this world could look like without us involved in the chunin exams, without any of the rookies involved in the chunin exams.

Scratching the surface: Sasuke wouldn't learn Chidori; Naruto wouldn't train with Jiraiya; Gaara wouldn't get punted by talk-no-jutsu into sanity; Orochimaru wouldn't murder the Kazekage and invade the village to put a curse mark on Sasuke and wouldn't kill Hiruzen.

Though the last one could be an improvement, it had its own drastic implications in regards to Sasuke's growth as a person and the future of the village.

Improvements would be ideal. Lives could be saved during the invasion and Sasuke could, for all intents and purposes, be given a new chance at a future without Orochimaru in it, but then what about Tsunade? If she didn't come back to the village, how would the politics of the world be affected by that?

That aside, the odds of me making it through the exams without changing anything was slim anyways. Like with Wave, my presence on its own, instead of Sakura's, would be enough to change things regardless of whether or not I went out of my way to make a difference.

I couldn't say I _wouldn't_ have intentionally made changes anyways, but at least then it would have been on my own terms. At least then I could have traced the path and pinpointed where the divergence was.

Was Kakashi not allowed to enter us? That could explain Team 7 not being entered, but what about Team 10? Did the Hokage decide that _none_ of the rookies were ready to be entered based on what happened in Wave? Did some _other_ jonin speak up against the rookies being involved in the exams?

Our mission had become an object of gossip amongst the ranks, leaked from the desk chunin and spreading like a spider web—everybody wanted to hear about how the great Kakashi failed a mission but earned the village a valuable trade ally, how the village jinchuriki got his client killed on his first major mission. If our team, deemed to be one of the most promising, couldn't complete their first major mission, would any of the rookies be ready to? All the missions we took as chunin would be like this—clearly, if we failed, we couldn't possibly be ready to be chunin, right?

In the back of my mind, I was aware that I stood in the middle of the training ground with Naruto hovering behind me. He was waiting for me to go for lunch. We always went to lunch together after training.

I felt myself get up.

I heard myself say, "I'm just going home. I'll see you tomorrow, Naruto."

I heard him cry protests at my retreating back.

Making big changes to the world sounded fine in theory. Save lives, improve them. Leave the world a better place than it was when I came into it.

It wasn't that I _didn't_ want to help—if I could help other people live along the way then fantastic, wonderful, I would do what I could—but my primary focus was always my own self preservation.

I was selfish and arrogant. That wasn't something new to me. But in hindsight, now fully grasping how dearly I could have cost the world with my desire to live, the blow of realizing just _how_ selfish and arrogant my view was hit me hard.

The effects of the Rookie 9 not participating in the chunin exams could hurt a lot of people, and could render a large part of my knowledge on the universe null—and there wasn't a damn thing I could do about it.

That was the worst part for me, as I stumbled home.

I couldn't reverse the situation. This choice was made for me, somewhere along the line, and I was left without any way to prep for it or any way to take it back. That, above all, _burned_.

.

.

Five hours later, sitting on the windowsill in my room with a blanket around my shoulders and a mug of tea in my hands like I've done since I was little, I could look at things with a clearer mind.

The panic receded some. In favor of it, I compelled myself—mentally kicking and screaming, but hey, I'd done it—into a fragile resignation.

It sucked. Feeling powerless in a situation where I was used to being powerful _sucked_. But there was nothing more I could do about it. I needed to keep moving.

Things were different and it was time to do what I should have done earlier: plan.

I made a rash decision in Wave that, understandable or not, reasonable in the moment or not, cost two lives and ruined another and I refused to do that again.

I should have planned before Wave started to avoid that position in the first place and I should have planned for the exams as soon as I got back, yet I did neither. It still burned that the choice had been made for me, but to claim that I couldn't have prepared for it didn't feel right, either, because I didn't even _try_ to. I should have. Whether or not I could have done anything was impossible to say, but I should have tried.

I took the handle of my tea in one hand and removed the other from around the cup. I looked down at my palm. There were flakes of dried blood stuck to the skin around the marks and I rubbed them off against my pyjama pants.

Pity parties weren't going to help me here.

No use in crying over spilt milk.

That was easier, as well, after having spent five hours thinking about things. Drastic changes were possible—highly likely, even. But some events weren't as flimsy when given a bit of thought.

Jiraiya would probably still train Naruto. Even if he didn't start doing it because of Naruto needing a sensei for the third part of the exam, he would _eventually_ do it as a way to counteract the threat of the Akatsuki.

On the flip side, Orochimaru wouldn't _not_ come and mark Sasuke because he isn't in the exam. He could take a different route for it but, "active" Sharingan or not, Orochimaru— _breathe_ , _breathe_ —had his gaze set on Sasuke and one way or another he'd make a move. That would be what dictated whether or not Hiruzen died and whether or not Tsunade returned to the village.

Itachi would still come for Naruto. _Akatsuki_ would still come for Naruto.

Neji and Gaara were _probably_ screwed in this situation. The prior is unfortunate whereas the latter is utterly horrifying. Though, if Neji never reformed and went on to form a better relationship with Hinata, she could die later because he wouldn't be there to save her in the war. If Hinata died, would Naruto have any children? Would he get married? If he did get married, and did have kids, what would they be like? Good? Bad? Would they end up _dead_?

 _Breathe._

Not to mention the fallout of Sasuke not re-awakening and Naruto not tapping into Kurama's chakra. That was a whole other can of worms that I wasn't prepared to deal with yet.

Baby steps, right?

I set my cup down in front of me because I could feel my hands begin to shake. I made myself breathe, just breathe.

The entire situation left me feeling like an ant standing at the foot of a skyscraper that I had no choice but to climb, taking each individual step up until I could stand on the topmost balcony. I _had_ to do it. Not getting to the point wasn't an option.

The arrogance, I supposed, hadn't left—it couldn't leave. It was too good of a coping mechanism to ditch entirely.

I would succeed in whatever the hell this situation was because failure could lead to catastrophe.

There was nobody else who understood how _dire_ this situation could prove to be. It was me alone at ground level, prepping for the climb.

I could do it, I would do it, I had to do it.

But try as I might to squelch the feeling, I was fucking terrified.


	23. Chunin Exams: Part 3

_._

* * *

 _They spent days driving through black_

 _Until one day, at the end of the tunnel, a pillar of light_

 _broke through the shadows._

* * *

I sat up in bed after a few hours of fitful sleep.

Sunlight streamed through half-opened curtains, and a whisper of a breeze brushed through the cracked window to tussle the age-worn white fabric. I could hear birds, loud, clear in empty air. The sheets of my bed—mine, for the first time since Wave—brushed against the bare skin of my arms.

A yawn pulled its way up from my chest and ballooned out of me, chased by a second, smaller yawn, an afterthought. My arms went above my head, joints crackled and popped.

It was a new morning. Yesterday, the last week, felt like a dream I was waking up from. If it weren't for the scabs littered on my palm from digging my nails into the delicate skin, I might have been able to believe that was the case.

Detachment, distancing. I could work with that.

Kakashi gave our team the day off of training to prepare for a day's worth of D-ranks tomorrow, that much I remembered. I also remembered being in a daze and telling Naruto I'd see him today as if we _did_ have training still. I didn't want to. Maen was home today, and I wanted to curl up on the couch and spend the day with him, maybe read a book, sketch, listen to some music. But Naruto deserved better than that.

I rubbed away at my eyes. Let out a breath. Forced my legs off the side of the bed, my feet to touch the floor. Walked over to my closet.

All of my gear sat in a sad heap on the ground, in the general vicinity of my closet without actually making it inside. Piece by piece, I stripped out of my pajamas and slid into my mesh, a t-shirt, and biker shorts. I pulled on my weights. On my way out of my room, I grabbed a hair elastic off of my bedside table and put my hair up into a disaster of a ponytail.

Kakashi gave us the day off, but I wasn't giving myself the day off.

I was going to train. Kakashi gave me a handful of different exercises to improve my sense of hearing and smell, all of which required better chakra control than I already had. I needed to work on those, along with the new taijutsu forms Lee tossed my way. Bonus points if I worked on those forms through sparring with Lee. There were some pent up emotions smoulding in the back of my mind that I could do to burn off in a good spar.

I was going to hunt down Naruto and make him eat real food. No ramen. It would have vegetables, and he would eat all of it. Or most of it. No matter what, as long as he ate a meal that involved no ramen, I would be satisfied.

When all of that was done, _then_ I would sit around and become one with the couch.

I grabbed something from the fridge to eat on the way to the training grounds and left a scrawled note in my wake. Maen was asleep, and I guessed he'd stay that way well into the morning given how late he got home. It was possible that he wouldn't be awake even when I got back. Still, it didn't feel right to speed out of the door without some trail left behind.

 _Gone to train, be back in a few hours._

I was going to be fine today.

I was.

.

.

Despite the early hour, the training grounds were filled with people. Not all of them were from Konoha. Most weren't, actually; a slew of foreign genin crowded the cratered earth as they got in last-minute training before the first part of the exams. They sequestered themselves into corners and ran through the basics. Hand signs, conditioning, projectiles. Nothing that would show their cards to their enemies.

I ignored all of them and walked into the back end of the grounds, past where foreign ninja were given access to. The noise and the incessant buzz of chakra died down. Most of the Konoha ninja were in this section of the training grounds, the genin especially, taking advantage of the privacy afforded to them.

I picked an empty area, way back, and got started. Time blurred into a haze of movement and sweat, no noise in the air but my heaved breaths. Blissful mindlessness took over. No thoughts to race over the barren landscape of my mind, no anxious feelings to set my heart at an unsteady beat and move my hands like a puppeteer. Just peace.

It didn't last as long as I wanted it to.

Ino stomped into my sanctuary with the kind of grace civilian women wanted to cultivate in their young daughters. It was an odd thing, how one could make something normally rough, smooth.

"Go away," I said.

"No," she said.

I fell into a neutral stance, every inch of my skin coated in sweat. "Ino, I'm busy."

Ino crossed her arms over her chest and narrowed her eyes at me, decked out in full training gear. She sniffed. "Yeah, busy avoiding me for the last week."

"Oh, wow, I _wonder why._ "

"It's been over a month since you agreed to train with me, but you've only done it twice."

"Three times," I corrected.

She stomped her foot. "That's not any better!"

"If you're gonna get at me for being an ass," I said, adjusting the weights on my wrists, "you might as well have your facts straight."

"You said you'd train with us."

"I know I did."

"So why aren't you?"

"Why aren't you training with Lee instead?"

She pursed her lips. I tilted my head and raised an eyebrow, expectant.

"You answer first," she said.

"No," I said.

"I asked you first, you need to—"

"I don't need to do anything except train myself," I said. "I don't _need_ to train with you and I don't _need_ to give you an answer. I should, but there's nothing actually making me do it."

"Really?" she asked. "Not even basic decency?"

I gave her a dry smile. "Why won't you train with Lee?" I asked again. She didn't answer. "If you want to get stronger, you can go and train with him. He's better at teaching, better at taijutsu, and just generally a better person than me. If you actually care about getting stronger, you should go find him like Sakura did."

Ino let her arms fall to her side and glared at me. "You know," she said, her voice tight and annoyed, "you don't need to be such a gigantic bitch."

In one fluid motion she flicked her ponytail over her shoulder and turned on her heel, marching out of the area with her head held high.

I went back to my training and pretended the interaction never happened.

.

.

"No ramen."

"But, _come on_ —"

"No. We can go get barbeque or sushi, or just some kind of real meal."

"Ramen is way better!"

"Ramen is high in sodium and not a balanced source of _anything_."

"Ramen…"

"No."

Naruto scrambled forward to block my path. He placed his hands together, dipped his chin, wobbled his lip, widened his eyes. "Please?"

People perusing the restaurant block grumbled as they walked past. The crowd's footsteps, scents, and voices mingled with the smell of fresh-cooked meat and clatter of utensils from those dining in the various open-aired spots. Fire Country weather was fair enough that most restaurants—that were aimed towards civilians, at least—had no wall to seperate the tables from the streets. The street was a hub, and could be smelt and heard from blocks away.

"You've gotten better," I said. I flicked him on the lip. "Not good enough, though."

I kept walking. Naruto rushed to catch up and Urushi, the ninken Kakashi tasked with keeping an eye on Naruto, trotted along at his side.

We wandered around for a few more minutes before Naruto gave in and consented to barbeque. That was an easy one. There were a few along the street, but the best place to go was near the very end of the block, an Akimichi-run restaurant. A lot of people passed it since the entrance was tiny and a bit run down. Get inside, though, and you'll find a ninja-friendly place with private booths and food prepared right in front of you.

A middle-aged Akimichi woman bustled over to hand us our menus and a pot of tea after we settled down in one of the booths.

The restaurant was quiet. Not silent, but the conversations around us were spoken in hushed tones and weren't accompanied by the expected meal-time caucophany. If the active chakra signatures of the other patrons hadn't already tipped me off, that would have done it.

The smell of cooking meat smothered the air.

I kept my eyes on the menu and let the cup of tea sit right close. The flowery tang of the herbal tea worked well as a cover. I'd gotten better with the smell, remembered that it was different, that it was mundane, but memories with strong ties to sensory experiences were stubborn and it still managed to unsettle me.

All I could do was breathe in through my mouth and force myself to ignore it. No more running from these issues.

The waitress returned a few minutes later to take our orders.

"Pork and beef ribs," Naruto said. I shot him a glare and he tacked on, "Please."

She smiled at him and answered with a nod. Upon closer inspection, I noticed that the expression was strained, tight at the edges and not reflected in her eyes. She reached for his menu before he could hand it to her.

"I'll get the seafood medley and two orders of roasted vegetables," I said. I glanced at the dog. "Did Kakashi send food with him this time?"

"Uh… no."

Somehow, I expected nothing less. "Filthy moocher," I mumbled. I cleared my throat and looked back at the waitress. "I'll also get an order of grilled chicken, but without any sauce."

She scooped up my menu and scurried away.

Naruto didn't seemed fazed by the behavior—after all these years, it must have been something that he didn't register much anymore. He was more concerned with scritching Urushi behind the ears.

"I'm kinda surprised Kakashi's still sending you guys the dogs," I said.

Naruto looked up at me with a dopey grin. "I like it! He's real cool. I mean, he kinda smells, and he takes food from my cabinets if I don't feed him—"

"Like ninja, like ninken."

"—but he doesn't pee on my stuff or rip my clothes or anything. So, yeah. He's cool. And, and, this morning, he bit this creep-guy when the dude got all mad at me for no reason."

I smirked.

 _Like ninja, like ninken._

"I wonder what his plan is."

Naruto shrugged. "Dunno."

Whatever Kakashi had in mind, keeping the dogs around the boys was nothing but positive.

Naruto had something to focus on, and Urushi didn't come with the prejudiced attitude so many in the village carried towards Naruto. He took affection with a wag of his tail and returned it to Naruto much the same. It gave Naruto something to be responsible for, even if he seemed to forget to feed the dog half the time it was around. That could be pinned on Kakashi, though, since feeding Urushi should be his job in the first place.

It was harder to say with Sasuke. I wasn't around him and Bisuke as often, but from what little I'd seen, Sasuke tolerated having a dog around. That was better than what most things got from Sasuke. Given enough time, I figured that it could evolve past that.

A stout man waddled over to our table and dragged a cart with our order laid out behind him. He cooked the vegetables first. That was fine. The smell was nice, pungent and sweet.

Then the first piece of meat went on.

I held my hands together underneath the table and kept breathing in through my mouth at a slow, steady pace. I didn't let my hands curl in or my fingernails dig into any inch of my skin.

Urushi slipped from beside Naruto, under the table, and then back up to settle beside me. His head went onto my lap. I carded my fingers through his fur, something to do with my hands. It was unsurprising that Kakashi's dogs were well versed in handling these kinds of things.

One by one, the meat sizzled in front of us and great clouds of smoke wafted around us, which I blew away.

The cooked food was set out on plates between the two of us and the chef cleaned up the station on the end of our table, took his tools, and shuffled away.

Naruto dove at the food. Ever hungry, he had no pretence of manners or anything of the sort. I couldn't be bothered to try and fix that issue. Instead, before Naruto could get at it, I took the small place of chicken, a handful of rice sprinkled on top, and set it down on the booth seat in front of Urushi.

Then it was my turn. I forced in a breath and grabbed for my chopsticks.

My stomach churned at the thought of eating, but I picked up a piece, some of the shrimp, and took a bite. Another bite. Another, another. It went down and sat like a rock in my stomach.

Next were the real challenge: the ribs.

Since Wave, my stomach refused to accept any red meats. No matter how it was cooked, whether it was pork or beef or lamb, the second it got near my mouth my body rioted, and if I could manage to get it down, it was temporarily. It couldn't keep on. I couldn't spend the rest of my life avoiding them.

I grabbed a piece of beef and nibbled on the end of it, chased the bite down with a sip of tea. Naruto was halfway through his meal by the time I'd eaten the single cube of beef. I ate some of the pork, too, a bit more quickly, and it all went down. Rather than push my luck any further, for the rest of the meal I reached for seafood and vegetables. A cube of beef and a cube of pork, so long as they stayed in place, were victory enough.

The meat went quickly. Naruto inhaled it—ramen or not, he was a twelve-year-old boy and if there was meat in front of him he was going to eat it. Vegetables were another story.

"There's an entire plate right there," I said. I pointed at it with my chopsticks, grateful for the distraction. "You're going to eat it."

He crossed his arms over his chest. "Don't wanna."

"Don't care."

"You can't make me."

I raised an eyebrow. "Can't I?" I asked. "I got you into barbeque instead of ramen, didn't I?"

"Yeah, but—"

"And I remember a couple of days ago, you were complaining about Iruka being on your case about proper nutrition." I tapped my chin in faux thought. Naruto's eyes widened. _Busted_. "He got a good look at all of the ramen in your house, didn't he? And he mentioned checking in, right? And having to go to special nutritional classes if you didn't get better?"

The 'special nutritional classes' didn't exist. From what I could tell, Iruka invented them on the spot to give his threats some weight. It worked. As soon as the words left my mouth, Naruto grabbed at the plate of vegetables and shoved one into his mouth.

"Fine," he said over a mouth of food. "Meanie."

I shrugged. "Growing boys need their vegetables."

He got through half of the plate and I stared him down until he took the rest home. There was a good chance they'd make it to a garbage bin, not his fridge, but it was worth trying.

I walked back into the house that evening feeling better. Not great, not good, but not bad either. I set myself a plan in the morning and I stuck to it.

 _I'm fine_.

The words rang through my head and for the first time in weeks, they held a level of truth to them.

* * *

The desk chunin dropped a towering stack of papers onto the mission table and eyed us with a sadistic glint in his bag-rimmed eyes.

The mission room was a complete disaster. Chunin ran around, chattering, shouting, crying, papers flying in their wake as they desperately tried to dole out missions to the available ninja. The exams started later this afternoon and by the looks of it, there was still much to be done in the few hours left.

Naruto was half-asleep on my one side, Sasuke glowering on my other, and Kakashi stood behind us and though I couldn't see his face, I'd guess what miniscule part of his face showed was coated in false cheer.

"One for each of you," the chunin said. He grabbed three scrolls and handed them to Kakashi. "You're expected about," he raised his hand to look at his watch, "ten minutes ago."

Kakashi gave the man a tiny salute and ushered us out of the room.

Crowds of ninja clustered inside the room, mostly various genin and chunin there to do the necessary grunt work, but I saw a few jonin sprinkled in for good measure. The desk chunin doled out tasks to them at lightning speed.

"Man, I gotta go help set up the guard stations around 44," one chunin said.

His friend turned to him with a grimace. "Better than what they gave me—I gotta go and join the trap squad inside that shitty place."

Both of them got sympathy pats.

I couldn't help but wonder what kind of tasks we'd been given.

Urushi and Bisuke waited for us outside, right where we left them a few minutes prior. Kakashi went over to them and dropped a hand on both of their heads before he turned to face us. His gaze went down to the mission papers. He flipped through them, making tiny noises as he went, reading so fast that I doubted he was giving any of it much thought.

"Okay," he said. "Here's what we're going to do."

He handed each of us a scroll, clapped his hands together, and disappeared in a puff of smoke.

A beat of silence.

I sighed. "Alright. Good talk."

Kakashi may have been doing better within the training grounds, but I didn't expect anything less from him when it came to doing our D-ranks.

"Where did he go?" Naruto cried.

I felt around for his signature among the throngs of people. It wasn't hard to find him, given the familiarity of his chakra. "He's up by the hokage monument."

I unfurled my scroll and read the tiny instructions printed out above the seal stamped in the middle of it.

 _Deliver each message to the named ninja. If required, return their follow-up message to the Hokage. Addresses will be contained on sealed message. If ninja is not at their location, return it to the messenger tower for special delivery._

That sounded easy enough. I put my finger in the middle of the storage seal and added a hint of chakra. Five tiny little squares of paper popped out into the palm of my hand.

"Hn," Sasuke said, staring down at his scroll.

"What did you get?" I asked.

His mouth morphed into a scowl. "I have to go run errands for Anko." After a grudging second, he added, "You?"

I held up the tiny stack of messages. "Message jockey. They ran out of birds."

"I gotta go help this Ibiki dude." Naruto squinted at his paper. "It says he's, uh… on the third floor of some building nearby."

I didn't pity either of them.

Sasuke looked at the two of us. He turned and walked away, hands in his pockets. Bisuke scrambled along to follow behind him.

"Another great talk," I said. I craned my neck to look at Naruto's scroll. "Do you know where it is?"

"Sorta?"

I pointed him in the right direction and once I was confident he would get there in a decent time, I picked up the first message and flew on my way. Of all the missions I could have been given, this one was the most ideal—without a doubt, it was better than what the boys got.

.

.

"So, you're the brat they sent me." Anko fiddled with an empty dango stick stuck between her teeth. "You'll do, I guess."

She sat at the desk of what Sasuke gathered was a control room, with monitors displaying security footage all around and desks with ninja talking on walkie-talkies. Anko's desk was in the middle. Her feet were propped up, her chair reclined back, like she was right in her element amidst the ravaged chaos of the room.

Sasuke heard some of the gathered chunin chuckle at his expense. He bit off a sigh, let it evaporate into the scowl on his face. "Yes."

"Whatever," she said. "Go get me some dango."

"What?"

"You deaf, Uchiha? Dango. I'm out. You know what that is, right?" she asked. He didn't answer. "The sweet on a stick. D-A-N-G-O."

Sasuke felt a muscle jump in his jaw. "I know what it is."

"Coulda just said so," Anko grumbled. She rolled her eyes. "Real piece of work, you are. Glad Kakashi of all people got you—that's some cosmic karma shit right there."

A bag of coins was tossed at Sasuke. He caught them midair and walked out of the room with his fists clenched in his pockets.

Anko called at his retreating back, "Make sure you pull that stick out of your ass on the walk back!"

.

.

Naruto was late.

He tried to listen to Kasumi and get all of the instructions. He _thought_ he knew exactly where he was going, right up until he didn't. It took him twenty minutes to find the building itself, another ten to get to the room, and by that point, he knew he was in for it.

"Hey, hey!" Naruto said to the first person he saw. "Lady!"

A young chunin turned to look at him. Her hands were at the base of her neck, tying her headband into place. "A genin?" she asked. "What're you doing in here?"

"I uh… here." Naruto thrust the scroll into her hands. "I dunno who this is."

She opened up the first half of it and scanned it. "Helper, blah blah… take orders, blah blah… oh. Ibiki." She looked around the room and pointed to a man in the front of it. "That's him, right there. Just take the scroll to him and he'll give you a task."

"Thanks lady!"

She waved him off. Naruto jogged over to the big scarred dude.

Ibiki was watching him the whole way over, arms crossed over his chest and face blank. "It took you long enough," he said. His voice was deep and rumbly, kinda like all those action heroes Naruto saw on the movie screens whenever he snuck into the village cinema. "You're my gopher?"

"No," he said. "I'm Naruto. Naruto Uzumaki."

Some of the chunin whipped around to face him—Naruto felt their gazes burn into his skin but he didn't let himself look away from Ibiki. All of them could mind their own business, the losers.

Ibiki didn't react to any of it. "Alright, Naruto. It's good to meet you."

Naruto bounced in place, eager to get busy. "Yeah, yeah. What am I gonna do?"

Ibiki reached back and grabbed a stack of clothes like his own. Dull grey uniforms. "You're going to hand all of these out. There are more in the box behind me. When you finish that, return and I'll give you another task."

Naruto snatched the uniforms from him and bounded off to do his job.

He didn't care what they made him do, as long as he was finished before Sasuke was.

.

.

I couldn't get my attention away from the gathering of chakra on my radar, a chunk of signatures that I guessed were the exam participants. Naruto's, a bit away but in the general vicinity, was only a minor sliver, swallowed up by the more vibrant blots on my sense. One of them was a thick, tar-like mass of chakra, that I assumed belonged to Gaara.

My feet stopped on the next rooftop. I was on my way to the hokage tower with a response in hand, one that I was told needed to be delivered with the utmost urgency. I wasn't supposed to stop.

Something I felt troubled me.

It was hard to pick much of anything out of the mass, aside from the pulsing powerhouses of chakra like Naruto and Gaara, two suns that couldn't be blocked out by much of anything. There was something in there, though. A muddled signature. I closed my eyes and honed in on it, the sharp edges of the chakra, the precise but subdued way it moved, with purpose that was being gripped in a controlled fist.

Trying to describe chakra in words was about as weird as trying to describe the sensation of sound to a deaf person, or the wonder of sight to the blind. Putting the intangible into the tangible. Explaining the sensation of eating a delicious meal by comparing it to music—you can get close, you can try and equate it on the basis of pleasure or quality, but it's impossible to make a one for one comparison. You had to get as close as you could get and settle for that.

The signature was cold.

I might have been able to brush that off in another situation. The issue was that something in my gut screamed danger and a name to go along with it: Kabuto.

I forced myself to keep going towards my destination, my mind whirling with possibilities. Kabuto meant Orochimaru which meant that a very real, _very dangerous_ threat to Sasuke was heading towards us like a tornado plowing over a countryside.

The awful part of my brain wanted to leave it be for the sake of some semblance of course correction. The other part knew that we were already fucked; not taking into consideration the human aspects of the situation, letting Sasuke get the curse seal wouldn't do any good if none of the other puzzle pieces fit into place.

I shut both thought processes down. I couldn't jump to one decision or another, especially considering that, for all I knew, it wasn't even Kabuto that I felt there.

With Gaara, when I felt him enter the village, I knew it was him because jinchuriki have a special _thing_ to their chakra. A spark, feel, characteristic. This dimension that made them identifiable when compared to other chakra signatures. All I had that pinned the cold signature to Kabuto was a bit of foreknowledge and a gut instinct.

There was time to gather information and think—I doubted Orochimaru was going to rush into action, if I was right about this. We weren't in the exams. We had all of tomorrow off to do whatever we wanted.

I would watch for Orochimaru and keep tabs on that odd, cold signature sitting the first part of the exam. If this was him, if all of the events concerning him were rolling ahead as they did in canon, I would deal with it, one way or another. I wouldn't panic. I wouldn't be stupid.

I could do this.

.

.

We met up again in front of the mission center.

I was the first one back. I spent the time sitting on the stairs, off to the side to stay out of the way, and watched the first part of the exam unfold through my chakra sense. I felt Naruto, doing who knows what a bit above where the majority of the signatures were gathered. Gaara and the cold signature held my attention most of all. The familiar signatures of Team Gai peaked my interest some, but I knew what they'd do.

There was a point where a sudden mass of signatures shifted out, away from the crowd. It had to be Ibiki making his reveal—the 'twist' final question. I wondered how many more people left because there was no Naruto there to scream out his defiant shtick. Gaara didn't leave, nor did Team Gai or the cold signature.

All of them would pass.

I blew out a breath and forced my body to remain lax, still, casually leant up against the railing on the stairs.

Naruto entered my line of sight half an hour later. He saw me and his face lit up, a whoop leaving his mouth. "Yeah! Hey, hey! Sasuke isn't here, right?"

"Not yet," I said.

"Oh yeah! I got here before him!"

"Was it supposed to be a competition?"

Naruto grinned. "Duh."

"Then I beat both of you."

"I don't care if you beat me," Naruto said. "I just wanna beat Sasuke."

Naruto didn't beat him by much; Sasuke turned up a few minutes later. He looked disgruntled, a darker look than usual on his face and his shoulders hunched. Often I thought that Sasuke's anger made him look older. In this case, though, it made him look childish, the expression on his face more akin to a pout than a scowl.

"Heh, look at that, I—"

I clapped a hand over Naruto's mouth before he could say anything stupid. "Hey," I said. "How was it?"

Sasuke's expression flickered into a grimace before returning to his scowl-pout. "I never want to meet that woman again."

"Yikes."

"Hn." He glanced around. "No Kakashi?"

"Nope," I said. "He's at the training grounds now, though." _At the memorial stone_.

Naruto's tongue poked out against my palm. I yanked my hand away, lips turned down in disgust, and wiped the spit off on his shoulder.

Sasuke rolled his eyes at us and turned to walk away.

"We're going to go get something to eat," I called after him. "Come with us."

"No," he said over his shoulder.

"You're turning down free food."

As expected, Sasuke didn't give me an answer. He rarely ate with us. I strong-armed him into it a couple of times, but not since Wave.

I sighed.

Naruto blew a raspberry at our teammates retreating back. "Eh, stuck up—"

"Cut it out," I said. "Let's just go get ramen."

In a second, Naruto's expression became one of unadulterated joy. "Ramen!" he shouted. "Ramen, ramen, ramen!"

The magic word.

"Yeah, yeah," I said. I hauled myself up and pulled him beside me. I nudged him forward. "Just walk, Naruto."

Naruto broke out into a mess of conversation that I didn't follow along with. My mind was filled with thoughts of a game plan. I tossed in a word here or there, enough to keep Naruto going, but I was more in my head than anything.

I had a lot of planning to do for tomorrow.


	24. Chunin Exams: Part 4

_._

* * *

 _You can't sit with us._

* * *

The next day dawned in a bright and cloudless sky. It was hot, a searing burn on the wind typical of the summer in Fire Country, weather that warranted a sleeveless top and breathable shorts, light colours to avoid drawing the ire of the sun, and a ponytail to keep my hair from suffocating the back of my neck.

I walked the village streets with a buzz in my bones, headed for the Forest of Death. I expected the streets to be dead at this hour, but there were people out and about, getting groceries and chatting with their neighbors. The activity made up a chorus of chatter that droned in the back of my mind while I focused most of my attention on picking through the chakra signatures on the other side of the village.

I didn't know when the genin were supposed to be there for, but I could feel a mess of signatures gathered in the general vicinity already. A few more potent signatures peppered the perimeter around them—I felt Maen's signature buried in their midst, marking them as at least partially made up of ANBU.

Within the gaggle of genin, I felt Gaara. I felt that cold signature. I felt Lee and his team.

I didn't feel any signature that made my instincts scream Orochimaru.

It was possible he masked his signature. I was good, having trained as long as I had with my sensing abilities, but I wasn't infallible; somebody like Orochimaru could easily hide himself from me.

I pushed off the emotions that circulated in my mind and took to the rooftops to speed up the trip.

The genin were clustered on the field in front of the gates. There were a few, but, compared to about how many I felt in the room after the first part yesterday, I knew that not all of them were there yet.

I took a spot up in a nearby tree and hunkered down, eyes peeled.

My gaze slid over all the faces. Gaara was the first one I saw, flanked by Kankuro and Temari, a chasm between them and the rest of the genin that none of them dared to cross. I sought out Kabuto next, but the next face I recognized was one I forgot to expect: Karin. She was standing with her teammates and frowning, like she wanted to be anywhere but there.

I wondered what would happen to her without Sasuke. I grimaced.

 _She's not helpless. She'll manage._

 _Don't think about this._

So I didn't.

I saw Kabuto, silver hair and glasses glinting in the sun, and confirmed he did, in fact, own the cold signature I felt. Sharp as a knife. Prickling. Through his glasses, I could see the way his eyes darted around, as if he was dissecting his enemies where each of them stood. For a split second, they roved over me. Goosebumps tore a line up my arm and down my back. He kept looking, and I didn't think he was looking _at_ me, so much as his eyes happened to glance over me, but it was enough to set my nerves on fire.

I waited there all morning, until Anko made her appearance and outlined the task. Even after that I waited a bit longer, until they started leading the genin into the forest and there was no chance the situation could change.

At no point did I see the face of the grass-nin I knew Orochimaru would wear, nor did I feel any signatures that made me suspicious. He wasn't there.

The initial reaction was a mix of relief and dread. Relief that I might not have to face Orochimaru in the near future, that the invasion might not happen. Dread that it still _could_ , and that I'd get as much warning of it as everybody else.

Again, I put that on the backburner and forced myself to think a bit deeper on the details of the invasion as I trekked home.

Where did it start?

Orochimaru wanting Sasuke was the obvious part of the equation, but it wasn't the driving force of it, just the reason he sought out Sasuke specifically during the third part of the exam and later continued to sink his fangs into Sasuke. Orochimaru and his agenda were one level.

The other part of the equation, the one that my addled mind liked to pass over, involved the usual suspect of Danzo. Danzo engineering it all. Danzo plotting to get Hiruzen and the Kazekage killed. Danzo making a power grab. Everything came back to Danzo, it seemed.

The whole domino display was set into motion. I diverted one branch of it with my actions in Wave, but the rest was going to tumble down one way or another.

I chewed my lip. My feet were wandering on their own, now, tracing a labyrinth through the village streets while my mind was elsewhere.

There wasn't a lot I was convinced I could do to stop the invasion.

Send in a tip to warn of the invasion? Sure. Okay. If I wanted to try that, two possibilities came to mind. The first, I could send the tip in secret. I'd have to figure out how to remain anonymous, which I knew was impossible for me—anonymity was a myth in a ninja village, especially for somebody of my caliber. No way did I have the skill set or the intelligence to pull that one off. The second was to tell somebody outright. That involved having an explanation as to where I came up with that information, and frankly, I figured I'd sooner land myself in T&I before I'd come up with an excuse good enough to get out unscathed.

All of that hinged on the assumption that anybody even _believed_ me.

Nix that option.

Punch Orochimaru in his ugly snake face the second he set foot in Konoha? Tempting.

Go and slit Danzo's throat in his sleep? Even _more_ tempting.

Both of those images were certain to appear in my wildest, bestest, most fantastical dreams, because it was hilarious how many of my future problems I could solve without the two of them causing chaos out in the world.

I bit off a sigh and stretched my arms towards the sky.

Realistically, the only path I saw was to wait until the day of the invasion and salvage what I could out of the day from there. Wait until I could sense the invading forces on their way and had proof to point towards. If a different option arose along the way, I'd think it over, only take it if I was absolutely certain that it was an option that yielded net positive results.

No risks, not this time.

.

.

I peeked over my sketchbook at the garden, leaning forward off of the trunk of the tree at my back to get a better look.

Flowers were an uncommon subject for me. I preferred people. I did bigger subjects sometimes, had even taken a shot at drawing the Hokage monument a few times, but more often than not I kept my focus on people. Something about the gardens today, being outside in the weather and the way the colours were so vibrant under the sun, pulled my attention though, and before I knew it I'd spent _hours_ sketching out as detailed a rendition of the flowers as I could. It wasn't a cohesive piece but more a few individual, fully realized flowers scattered across the page.

It was nice.

The sun had cooled a bit, and the air was warm without being scorching. I could smell the flowers and the earth around me, sweet and soft.

After a while, I saw Shikamaru approach out of the corner of my eye.

I stopped sketching long enough to read the frown on his face, the lack of slouch in his posture, signalling something was amiss, and kept going again. He wasn't mad—Nara didn't get mad, I'd never _seen_ a Nara get mad—but he was annoyed.

Shikamaru came and dropped down onto the ground beside me, starfished save for one arm stretched over his eyes.

I let him stew.

If I hadn't suspected something was wrong already, the fact that he didn't fall asleep right then and there was indication enough on its own. All I could hear from him was the steady pace of his breathing. Not a single word.

Silence, most times, was comfortable with us, but this one was threaded with tension.

I wasn't going to break it.

Hours passed with me sketching and Shikamaru laying there. I filled up a few pages with colourless sketches, going until the sun started to drop and there wasn't enough light to continue. I stood up, brushed the grass and dirt from my bare legs, and went to go.

Shikamaru sighed. I stopped and turned to look at him over my shoulder.

There was dread and annoyance in his eyes, the way he looked when Yoshino asked him to do some terrible chore that he really, _really_ didn't want to do.

"What's up?" I asked. My sketchbook, held open in front of me, fell closed and tapped against my thigh when my hand landed at my side. "Need to say something?"

He took his sweet time to think his words out. "Ino spent all day whining about you," he finally said. "It was loud. Right in my ear."

"As usual, you have my pity and condolences."

"She's been doing it for a while."

 _Oh, fantastic_. "She has, has she?"

"Keeps bitching that you won't train with her," he said. His head rolled over and he stared up at the sky. "And that you always ignore her and you're rude to her."

"Okay?"

His face twisted. I had every intention of making him spit it out. "You could try being a bit nicer to her."

I raised my free hand, index finger up. "First, I'm not nice to most people." I raised another finger. "Second, she's not exactly a saint either."

"I know," he said, and I could hear the frustration creep into his words. "She's annoying and loud, but I'm stuck with her, and it won't exactly kill you to just _try_ and be nice to her."

I waved a hand. "If she can't be bothered to be nice to me, I can't be bothered to be nice to her."

"You say that like you've ever been nice to her."

"Seriously? Do you _remember_ her in the Academy?"

"She was annoying, just like she is now," he said.

"And she spent the entire time being pissy with me because she decided that Sasuke likes me," I said, cutting him off. "Which, might I add, she _still_ thinks."

"She's a girl."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It's just… that's what they do."

I pinched the bridge of my nose. "For fuck's sake…"

Shikamaru sat up. "Whatever, just—"

" _I'm a girl, Shikamaru_."

He froze.

I didn't use his full name. I hadn't called him by his full name in _years_.

"I know you're a girl," he said, the words slow, like he was confused about having to say it. "I just mean that you're not a _normal_ girl."

"Get a fucking shovel, Shikamaru, 'cause you're digging yourself a hole."

A minute of silence stretched between us.

I stood, like a coiled cobra ready to strike, muscles stiff and anger boiling beneath my skin.

Shikamaru stared at me. His eyes shifted, darting around my face and my posture, like I was a puzzle he was trying to put together without having any kind of reference image to do so with. I knew him well enough to know that he didn't understand what was wrong with what he said, and that didn't save him—it made it all the more annoying.

His face smoothed over, and I felt myself relax.

He may not be able to put all of the pieces together, but like a true shogi player, he knew when to take a loss.

Shikamaru flopped down onto his back. "Fine."

 _Whatever_.

I turned and walked away, sketchbook gripped in white knuckles.

.

.

The living room was lit by a dim lamp on the table beside the couch, casting a warm glow on the pages of my novel, and the flickering bulb in the kitchen on the other side of the room.

The book was stupid. Something random I grabbed off of my shelf and skimmed. It was either a cheesy romance novel or fairy tales, since those were the two lone genres on my shelf. I wasn't sure which the book fell into—I'd only gotten through a token amount of pages in however long I spent stretched out on the couch, and my mind was elsewhere for all of them.

"What're you doing?"

I started. My gaze, locked on empty air above the pages of the book, jolted up to the entrance of the house and landed on Maen.

I held up my book. "Reading."

"You're not," he said. "I just watched you stare into space for ten minutes straight."

"You've been here ten minutes?"

Maen tossed off his arm bracers and pulled his mask from where it rested on the side of his head. "No, but the fact that you didn't deny it says enough."

 _Damn_. I discarded the book. "How was the babysitting?"

"Wonderful," he drawled. "Nothing beats sitting crouched in a tree for twelve hours straight while my squad bets on how many genin are going to get eaten by the wildlife."

The rest of his mud-coated gear ended up in a pile by the door, leaving him in just the tight black shirt and loose pants of his uniform. He walked in and instead of coming to sit beside me, turned right and walked into the kitchen.

I waited for the sound of the kettle turning on. It came, but it was followed by the sound of a bowl and utensils clattering onto the counter.

Curious, I pulled myself up and peered into the kitchen. I caught sight of the time out of the corner of my eye—it was almost three in the morning. No wonder he was surprised to find me up and about when I had training the next norming.

"Are you _baking_?"

"Yes."

"You just spent your entire day out on a mission, you haven't showered or gotten changed since getting home, it's 2:56am, you have to leave again first thing in the morning, and you're about to bake."

Maen slipped on his apron. "Yes."

"Why?"

"I want cake."

"Okay?"

"I'm an adult," he said, turning to look over his shoulder at me. "If I want cake, I'm gonna make cake."

Maen didn't bake often. He cooked most days he was home, but baking was something he saved for special occasions. Baking was a lot of effort, he always said, too much time to put in for a few seconds of sweetness, too many steps to make, too many dishes to do. Troublesome. Cooking was necessary, baking was optional. And yet there he was, baking a cake in the middle of the night because he had a sweet tooth.

"Fuck it," I muttered. I yanked myself up and padded over to the kitchen. "I can go for cake."

Maen gave me a faint smirk, reached over to grab the spare apron, and threw it at me.

I managed the dry ingredients—the least problematic role—while Maen whisked together the wet ingredients. The oven heated up in the background. My arm plowed the fork through the fluffy white contents of the bowl hugged to my chest, moving in tiny, circular motions, to keep bits of flour from creeping over the sides.

It was a nice, mindless activity.

I didn't bake often. Or ever, really. I helped Yoshino with dinner when I was over the but never dessert, and Maen did his best to keep me out of the kitchen because I had a nasty habit of zoning out mid-process and burning things. That was fine when somebody like Yoshino was at the helm, who kept on top of everything, but not so much if I was alone or partnered Maen who took a lackadaisical approach to cooking.

The bowl was pulled out of my grip and the whisk clattered against the plastic. I blinked, pulled back to reality.

Maen set the dry ingredients down onto the counter. He poured the slosh of wet ingredients in bit by bit, stirring the mixture as he went. "You can start on the frosting," he said, jerking his head towards the stuff out beside him. "Just mix the butter and icing sugar together, then add the vanilla and milk."

Everything was measured out and scattered in bowls over the counter, the electric mixer an arms length away.

"You're making icing, too?"

"No," he said, face dead straight. "It's frosting _,_ and you're making it."

I glanced at the clock. It was half past three in the morning. It wasn't a time to argue about anything.

"Okay," I said.

I dumped in the butter, poured the sugar on top, and flicked on the mixer.

My vision exploded in a cloud of sugary dust and chunks of butter. It went everywhere, all over my face and my clothes, pieces of it lodged in my hair, over the counter tops and clouded in the air around us. I stood there, speechless. The mixer dangled from my grip.

I chanced a look over my shoulder at Maen and his expression was blank, the way it went when he was well and truly surprised by something.

I dropped the mixer like it burned me. " _Shit_."

Maen sighed and put down the bowl of batter. "Get a cloth," he said. "You clean, I'll make the frosting."

It took me an hour to get all of the butter and sugar from the crevices of the kitchen. I doubted it was all gone, but I didn't care enough to keep going. Maen could get the rest of it over the next few days—it was his dumb idea to give me the mixer in the first place. That was my retribution.

Another hour went by, putting us at half past five in the morning, when we sat down across from each other at the little, round kitchen table, cake on plates in front of us.

It was plain. A square of vanilla cake with vanilla buttercream frosting. Rainbow sprinkles Maen found buried in the back of one of the cabinets were scattered on top of the blanket of creamy white.

I took a bite of it and was annoyed at how good it tasted.

Maen stared at me, fork raised, a smug grin on his face—a silent question.

"Awful," I answered.

He reached over and pulled on my disarrayed ponytail. "Brat."

Another bite. I chewed, staring down at the plate, thoughtful. I barely heard myself when I said, "Shikamaru and I got into a fight today."

"A fight," Maen echoed. "That's new."

"You're telling me," I mumbled.

"Not what I was expecting, honestly."

I gestured at the cake. "Was this some kind of twisted new approach to psychology for you?"

"No," he said. "I just wanted cake."

"Oh. Okay."

Maen captured a chunk of cake with his fork and shrugged. "Two birds, one stone, even better when it's an accident." He waved the fork around in a vague motion. He sat back in his chair and kept eating, waiting for me to keep going.

"He's an idiot," I muttered, stabbing at my cake.

"Sure," Maen said.

I glared down at my cake.

Even hours later, thinking about it again was enough to bring back my frustration. I was annoyed at Shikamaru. Annoyed that he was _right_ about some things, but more annoyed that he was an idiot that put his foot in his mouth and was so _wrong_.

I was a bitch to Ino.

A lot of people got the business end of my attitude, but she, along with so many of the girls in my grade group did during our Academy years, got a heaping dose. The biggest difference was that I hadn't seen any of them since we graduated, while Ino didn't leave me alone.

I told myself that she was a bitch too, and she deserved it. I justified myself. If she had only left me alone, I never would have been so rude to her, look at Sakura, I was nice to Sakura now, wasn't I? That made it okay, right?

She was annoying, she was haughty, and she was selfish, but Ino Yamanaka was not a bad person and she didn't deserve to be treated like one.

And while Shikamaru was right about that, where he went wrong was when he said that I wasn't a normal girl, because that was the furthest thing from the truth—I _was_ a normal girl, yet at some point, I had gotten it in my head that I wasn't. Disliking makeup, not crushing on boys, dressing in practical clothes. None of that made me special. I wasn't _better_ than any of them.

I thought I was more prepared to face the cruel reality of our work because of it. And then during Wave, when it really mattered, none of that saved me.

The thought was bitter. Nobody wanted to reflect in on themselves and face the fact that they did something wrong.

"People suck," I said. I forced out a breath. "Myself included."

"Universal truth, kid."

My face twisted into a scowl. "I wish it wasn't."

"Nothing to do about it."

"Fucking _sucks_."

"Life."

I pressed my palms into my eyes. Exhaustion rattled in my bones and made them feel hollow, like a rock jiggled around a tin can. The lack of sleep had crept up on me.

"I think I need to apologize," I admitted, voice low.

Maen raised an eyebrow. "To Shikamaru?"

"No, somebody else," I said. "Somebody I've been unfair to."

Maen nodded.

We finished our cake in silence.

The sun rose as we took our last bites. I ended up helping Maen do some of the dishes and get the leftover cake wrapped up. It was a few minutes after six in the morning, putting the total time spent on that baking stint up to damn near four hours.

On his way out of the kitchen, intent on getting a shower, Maen dropped a hand on my head. He grinned at me, soft and fond. "You're a good kid, you know," he said. "Just trust your gut."

I leaned in and wrapped my arms around his torso. "Thanks."

.

.

"I'm sorry."

"You're… sorry?"

I grimaced. "Don't make me repeat it."

Ino tilted her head, arms crossed over her chest. "I really want you to, actually."

A couple of customers in the flower shop turned to look at us, but Ino waved them off with a delicate move of her hand and a cheery smile.

"You're enjoying this."

"I am," she said. "A lot."

I rolled my eyes. "You're not making this easy."

"In the seven years I've known you, you've never made _anything_ easy for me."

I forced out a breath and said, "I'm sorry for agreeing to train with you and then not holding up my end of the bargain, and I'm sorry that I've been such a bitch to you for so long."

Some of the smugness faded from her face. Her posture unwound itself. "You really mean that, huh?"

"Yeah." I studied her. "You're surprised?"

"Oh, totally," she said. "I didn't think you were the apologizing type."

A shrug. "I know when I'm wrong."

She wiped a smear of dirt off her chin and cleaned her finger off on her apron. "Well then. Apology accepted."

It was my turn to be surprised. "Just like that?" I asked.

"Sure," she said. "I don't see any reason to hold a grudge." Her face scrunched a little, like she'd smelt something awful. "And I guess… I owe you an apology, too."

"I'm… thank you."

"I shouldn't have kept bugging you about all of that training stuff, especially when I could tell that you didn't want to do it. You were right, honestly. I didn't really care about getting stronger. I mean, I do, just… I wanted you to train me because I wanted to see what my competition was, try and find why he bothered talking to you, aside from being his teammate." Her eyes flicked from my face to my ratty, sweat-covered clothes, and back up. "I still don't know."

"There isn't a reason," I said. "Because he doesn't like me."

She nodded to herself, taking the words in, as if she expected to hear them but for the first time, she's _really_ hearing them. "You know, I thought you just said that to get me off your case, but I believe you this time."

"Really?"

She was the one who shrugged this time. "I don't think I wanted to believe you before."

I scoffed, an ugly sound, and a wry grin pulled at her face. "I have no idea what you see in him," I told her.

"I want the best," she answered. The words left her mouth as if they were the most obvious thing in the world, accompanied by a signature hair flick. "He's the best."

At that, I shook my head, and the ratty hair that escaped my braid brushed against either side of my face. "No, he's not," I said. "You can do so much better than him."

"We'll see."

Both of us went quiet.

"You know," I said after a second, "this was easier than I thought it'd be."

"Same." Her eyes narrowed. "I still don't like you, though."

I smirked. "Good," I answered. "I still don't like you either."

"Perfect."

Neither of us said it out loud, but when I left the store, I knew that she wouldn't be stomping in and interrupting my training sessions again.


	25. Chunin Exams: Part 5

_._

* * *

 _Blessed are the hearts that_

 _bend; they shall never be broken._

* * *

I got my first glimpse at how our lack of involvement in the chunin exams would change things when I found Lee in the training grounds.

He, Tenten, and Gai were gathered on the dirt—no Neji. A cloud hung over them, their eyes all dulled of life like the sky after a vicious storm. Lee and Gai were quiet. Tenten had red-rimmed eyes. I fought off the unease and walked over the dew-dampened dirt towards them, the light smell of petrichor in the air; all of a sudden, the pleasant weather around us felt like a lie.

Lee was the one to watch me approach, and he gave me an oversized, unconvincing smile. "Ah! My Spring Blossom!"

"What's going on?" I asked. "You guys looks like—" _somebody died_.

I cut myself off because I realized, at that moment, that somebody could have actually died, and without more information that joke was in poor taste, even for me.

"Ah. It is… it is Neji," Lee said. His eyes fell. "He's in the hospital."

"What happened?"

"There were a lot of us who got through the Forest," Tenten said. My gaze snapped over to her. She stared at the ground and her voice wavered on each word. "Too many, they said. So one person from each team was picked to fight in a preliminary round. Neji… he got picked from our team… and he…"

Her voice choked off, and she hissed a breath out between grit teeth. A cold fury turned her gaze to ice and froze her tears in the corner of her eyes. "He fought one of the Suna genin. That _monster_ ripped his… his… _Kami_." Tenten gave her head a sharp shake but didn't finish the sentence.

"Neji lost one of his hands in his fight," Gai said, picking up where she trailed off. "The other was rendered near-useless, crushed by sand, but they do not think it will be removed."

 _Monster from Suna that uses sand when he fights._

 _Gaara_.

"I'm…" I tried to conjure up something to say, but all I had was, " _Shit_."

"His life is not at risk, but there were more critical injuries outside of his hand that require treatment. He will likely remain in the hospital for the next month while the exams continue on."

"I know that he will pull through!" Lee said. "And he will be back, stronger than ever!"

Tenten looked at Lee with a resigned and almost condescending look, like she was watching a five-year-old blabber about politics. Gai looked between the two of them but didn't say anything more. He lacked the false cheer of Lee and the bitterness of Tenten—he was closer to numb.

Gai would have stood there and watched the match unfold. When Neji lost his hand, Gai heard the scream, saw the panic and terror and _pain_ that must have flooded Neji's face. If anybody stepped in to keep Neji from being killed, it was him.

I wonder how that felt, to watch somebody you care deeply for experience that kind of pain and suffering while you're helpless to step in, not because you're not strong enough, but because you simply aren't _allowed_ to intervene.

Tenten balled her hands into fists and muttered, "I'll _kill_ him."

I felt like I was intruding, at that point, so I bade them goodbye and headed back into the main part of the village. As I walked, the weather pulled its mask away and the sky began to drip rain onto me, first a few stray drops of water that quickly turned into a torrent.

Rather than head home or find a different place to train, my feet carried me in the direction of Konoha General Hospital.

.

.

I breezed past the guy manning the desk once I entered the hospital.

He started to say something, but I cut him off with a wave, following my chakra sense through the hospital. I knew Neji's signature. Interestingly enough, his wasn't the only familiar signature in that room.

Neji was staying in the critical care unit. There were medic nin buzzing around the halls, in and out of the rooms, charging through with tables overflowing with supplies, and I found myself bobbing and weaving to keep from being run over. Most of them ignored me, including the medic that charged out of Neji's room as I approached, her eyes locked on the clipboard in front of her instead.

I slipped in past her and closed the door behind me.

Hinata looked up, startled. "O-oh—"

"Sorry," I said. "I just… I heard, and I wanted to visit."

"N-no, ah, it's fi-ine. I don't m-mind."

I walked over and grabbed the clipboard from the foot of his bed.

Neji was out cold. A litany of machines were hooked up to him, their beeps echoing in the background like some twisted orchestra. One seemed to be helping him breathe. Another, pumping blood into his system to make up for what he lost. I had no idea what the other two were for. The sight of Neji was off putting—obvious, given his state and what put him there, but there was something about it that seemed incongruous.

It took a couple of seconds, but I noticed that outside of the sheets laying flat against the bed where his right hand should be and some minor bandaging on his other arm, Neji didn't have a scratch on him. All of it had been healed.

"He's g-going t-to be… be f-f-fine."

"Yeah, that's what Gai told me."

Hinata looked at me, looked at Neji, and lowered her gaze to her lap, where her hands shook against her leg. She whispered, "I'm really glad."

A scowl threatened to darken my features but I stamped it down, keeping my expression clean. "Doesn't he hate you?"

She flushed bright red and didn't answer.

 _Smooth, Kasumi. Smooth._ "Sorry," I said. "That was… a bit uncalled for, huh?"

Figuring it was about time for me to go, I set the clipboard back in its holder. I'd stuck my nose in other people's business enough for that day.

I was halfway out the door when Hinata said, "He's… h-he's family."

I looked at her over my shoulder. There was an unquestionable determination in her face, a kind of stubborn kindness that reminded me of Lee.

It was a shame Neji wasn't awake to see that expression.

Unable to conjure a proper response, I nodded and walked back out the hospital.

The rain kept falling on me the whole way home, but through the clouds, through the rain, the sun appeared again and a rainbow glistened on the horizon.

It was an odd turn of events, to know that Neji lay in the hospital that was supposed to hold Lee. How would that affect things? Would Gaara still attack the hospital in a bit less than a month? Probably. Would Gai still jump in at the last moment to save the day?

I frowned. My feet slowed as I thought it over.

I couldn't say one way or another. I didn't _remember_ why Gai was there in the first place. Visiting Lee was the logical thing, but the flash of the event playing through my mind showed me Gai swooping in at the last moment, _after_ Naruto and Shikamaru were in the room with Lee. It was possible Gai was there for a visit and coincidentally happened to show up in time to save the day. Coincidences weren't unusual in this world. But if this was the case, would he visit Neji in the _exact_ same way he would visit Lee?

A groan left my lips and I rubbed at my temples, a headache forming. Neji losing his hand and how that would change the chunin exams wasn't a conundrum I planned to contend with. Hell, I hadn't thought the preliminary fights would happen at all, without the Rookie 9 to clog up the second exams, but I was wrong there.

It was the type of twist that _couldn't_ be anticipated for.

Still, I expected to feel guilt or sadness or _something_ like that over Neji losing his hand, even though it was an impossible thing for me to predict. The butterfly effect traced back to me, to Wave, as so much had since then.

I didn't feel bad about what happened to Neji.

There was a smidge of guilt buried in there in amongst my other thoughts, but I forced myself to remember that not all of the blame was on me—Gaara did this. Gaara was the one who took Neji's hands, not me. Gaara, should he continue the same path he did in canon, seeking to finish the job, would be the one to make another attempt on Neji's life, not me.

And it wasn't as if nobody would have gotten hurt if things went as they were supposed to. It was just somebody else on the chopping block, somebody who deserved the shit end of the stick more than Lee did—so long as he didn't die, which I didn't plan to let happen.

Neji had the _potential_ to be a good person, but the same could be said for anybody walking through the streets of Konoha. As it was, Neji wasn't a good person. Neji had experienced trauma in his life and was twisted and bitter from it. Anybody would be. That didn't change the fact that if everything had gone how it was supposed to, with the Rookie Nine in the prelims, Neji would have been perfectly willing to kill Hinata with the hands he lost, somebody who dutifully sat at his bedside and showed him kindness that he never thought to show to her.

Now, Neji would never have a career as a ninja, if he made it out of this alive.

I'd read what that clipboard said. His remaining arm wasn't torn off by Gaara, nor was it amputated, but the coils within it were crushed into dust and the muscles were too damaged to contort his fingers as he needed to for hand seals. He would never channel chakra with it again, much less use the jyuuken. His future was shot. He could learn to fight only using taijutsu in his lower body, and he could see success with it, but he'd never be the sixteen-year-old jonin he was supposed to be.

I _pitied_ Neji. His situation was awful.

But there was a cruel little voice in my head that, try as I might, I couldn't stamp out. It whispered in my ear with its impish little voice, _Maybe this is for the best. Having to lay there while somebody else comes to his rescue, live his life without his ability to function as a ninja. Things that'll humble him._

Only time would tell.

* * *

"You want to fight using… _this_."

"Yeah."

"Why?"

"Look at it. Just _look_ at it. It's insane, why wouldn't I?"

Kakashi looked down at the sword spread out on the ground in front of us. He had his book open in one hand but the cover of it rested against his thigh, his other hand empty and limp at his side. His eye roved over the whole length of it, then up and down my entire body from where he stood across from me. "That sword is bigger than you."

I was covered in sweat from the two hours I'd spent working on my kata and conditioning while Kakashi gave Naruto and Sasuke their personal lessons. We were well into the morning. The grounds around us remained empty and the skies above us were clouded, but there wasn't any potential for rain.

I shrugged. "Not by much."

"You can't lift it."

"But I _could_."

"It doesn't fit with anything I've been teaching you over the last few weeks."

"Look," I said, arms crossed over my chest. "I'm a simple person who simply wants to learn how to use a _giant fucking sword_. I have it either way because, for whatever reason, Lord Hokage never took it back from me."

As the classic saying goes: when life gives you a sword as big as most adult men, you learn to smack people with it. It would be a waste to let the thing rot inside of a scroll.

I _knew_ there was nothing reasonable about learning to use Kubikiribocho—I just didn't _care_.

"They don't want to give it back to Kiri. Lord Hokage doesn't know you have it."

"But he asked Shikaku—"

"He asked Shikaku to look into it, but he didn't want to get the answer. If they ask, he can truthfully say that he doesn't know where the sword is, and that he can't even take a guess since he doesn't know whether or not we took it out of Wave in the first place."

"Smart."

Kakashi eyed the sword again. "You're going to keep going until you learn how to use it with or without my help," he said.

"Probably, yeah."

"You already use chakra to enhance your strength as it is, which you're going to have to do no matter what—you're too small to ever build the required muscle mass to wield it without chakra assistance," he said. He rubbed at his chin. "You still need more natural strength to enhance, though."

His expression brightened, and I got the feeling I was going to regret involving Kakashi in this. "I think Gai probably has some old weights that'll be strong enough," he said. "The seal on yours won't hold enough chakra for what we need."

"These… these go up to ten kilograms."

And that was ten kilograms _per limb_. It was rare I put enough chakra into them for that kind of weight. Mostly, I let it sit at something close to five or six, and raised it up to ten for more intensive training.

The numbers sounded absurd, but I had the odd thing that was ninja biology on my side. From the years and years of chakra running through ninja, most descendents of long-running families are able to put on muscle mass at an expedited rate. That, combined with a constant thrum of chakra that ran through my muscles to keep them at an enhanced level and alleviate some of the potential damage, was what allowed me to run around with a little under half my combined body weight strapped to my limbs at any given time.

Kakashi propped one hand on his hip and tucked the other in his pocket, putting his book away along with it. His expression shifted.

I saw it then, in his eye, a sadistic glint that made me feel like I'd just stared into the void, and the void stared back. "That'll be fine for everyday wearing," he said. "But nowhere near enough for what you're going to need now. You'll need at least twenty kilograms for that."

My eyes widened.

On the average day, I only weighed fifty kilograms. Thirty kilograms didn't sound like a huge amount until you remembered that it was thirty kilograms worn for a two hour training session, while other exercises are being done.

"You're going to kill me," I muttered.

Kakashi just smiled.

.

.

I lifted my arm from over my eyes and watched the edge of the training grounds as Jiraiya approached our group. I felt him there over the last half an hour while we did our group training, and even before that, as he travelled through the village, his signature was a constant blip on my radar, bright enough that it was impossible to ignore.

Naruto, Sasuke, and I were splayed out on the ground, all of us exhausted from training. Kakashi sat up against a tree behind us with his book out, but his attention was focused on the same place as mine.

"So," Jiraiya said, swaggering into the grounds, "these are your brats."

"This would be them."

Naruto groaned and opened his eyes, his face strained as if doing this was the most difficult task he'd done in his life. "Ehh? Whaz goin' on…"

"What an impressive bunch," Jiraiya said.

Sasuke opened his eyes long enough to glare at Jiraiya before he rolled over and curled in on himself—he didn't like to be woken up for anything, not even an emergency, which this wasn't.

I expected Jiraiya to hone in on Naruto, and he did at first, whatever tumult of emotions simmered at seeing Naruto remaining well hidden. But his eagle eyes didn't remain there. They turned to me, and I couldn't help the wave of unease that ran through me when they did. Konoha ninja or not, drunkard pervert or not, Jiraiya was an intimidating person.

"Well, well," he said. "Who's this?"

I sat up. "Kasumi Kurosawa."

He watched me in silence. The wide grin that was on his face regressed into a more subdued, closed smile, an almost wistful look on his face.

I frowned.

Naruto rubbed at his eyes and pulled himself up, too. He stared at Jiraiya with narrowed eyes and a scrunched up expression, full of petulance. "Hey… who're you and why're you buggin' us?" Naruto asked.

"Who am _I_?" Jiraiya shot back at him. His chest puffed up, his entire demeanor taking on a smug air to it. "I'm Jiraiya of the Sannin, the Toad Sage and one of the most skilled perverts you've ever met in your miserable life, _brat_. You best show some respect."

"Pfffffft. No way."

"You doubt me?"

"Duh. Ebisu's a _giant_ pervert, and Kakashi reads porn like… all day long."

"Yeah, and you know whose porn he's reading?" Jiraiya jutted a finger at his chest. " _Mine_."

"He borrowed it from ya?"

"You idiot. No, I _wrote it_."

"Oh. Whoa…"

"That's more like it!"

I looked back to Sasuke and saw that he had opened his eyes again. He looked and at Jiraiya, the expression on his face as sour as if he'd smelt three-day-old garbage. His face held more disdain in one inch of it than I'd ever seen on anybody else in my entire life.

"I can't believe somebody as powerful as this is such a moron," Sasuke said.

"Moron?" Jiraiya scoffed. "You're clueless, kid."

"Yeah! This pervert dude is pretty cool!"

"Hey, get it right—I'm a _super_ pervert."

"I dunno. You just seem like a pretty normal pervert, right now."

"You have no idea what you're talking about."

Naruto jumped up, fully awake now. "Oh, yeah? Then prove it!" His hands weaved together and he cried, "Sexy Jutsu!"

In Naruto's place a scantily clad woman appeared. Clouds covered her breasts and vaginal area, and two pigtails stuck out of her head.

Kakashi sighed. Sasuke froze. Jiraiya put one hand to his chin and leaned forward, inspecting Naruto's form.

I picked myself up off of the ground and headed towards the exit of the training grounds.

It was nice that Naruto and Jiraiya met, and better that Naruto seemed to like him—or was at least interested by Jiraiya, which would work for now. There was potential for future interactions that could blossom into the relationship they had in canon. One box ticked off my list of things that I wanted to happen.

That said, I had no desire to watch how the rest of that conversation turned out.

Seeing a naked, female version of Naruto was about as far down the list of 'things I want to do with my time' as anything could get. Instead, I would go home, curl up with a book and a cup of tea, and try my best to scrub that image from my memories.

.

.

Jiraiya leaned his shoulder on the tree, arms crossed over his chest, and watched Naruto and Sasuke bicker their way out of the area. He turned his chin down towards Kakashi, who sat back against the trunk, and said, "I almost didn't believe the old man when he said you actually passed a team."

"You say that like I could have gotten away with failing that team."

"'Course I know the old man wouldn't let you—I'm just surprised you didn't _try_."

"I wanted to."

"And yet, you didn't." Jiraiya clapped him on the shoulder. "It's doing you good."

Kakashi turned the page in his book, not deigning the comment with a response.

"It is," Jiraiya said. "You seem… happier. If that's even possible for you, cranky little shit that you've always been." He grinned. "And I've seen those ninken of yours following the boys around. It's cute, you know."

Kakashi sighed. Quietly, he said, "Yeah. They're good kids."

Jiraiya stretched his arms above his head and let out a long, cat-like yawn. Without ceremony, Jiraiya dropped down to the ground, and slung a lazy arm over Kakashi's shoulder. Kakashi shrugged him off and shuffled over.

Jiraiya scoffed. "Fine, be that way." He got comfortable. He sat cross legged, one arm draped over his knee.

There was a few minutes of silence. Kakashi read, Jiraiya stared up at the sky and watched the clouds drift along on their way.

Jiraiya broke the peace when he said, "She looks just like Kushina."

He didn't expect much of a response to the statement. It was an observation that bugged Jiraiya since he first set eyes on Kasumi.

Kakashi hummed. "The resemblance goes away pretty quickly once she opens her mouth."

"I was expecting it, you know, since most of those damn Kurosawa look like they came straight from Uzu, but _damn_." Jiraiya shook his head. "You're right, though. And she looked cranky as shit."

"That doesn't stop much, either."

"Lucky you."

"She's small and easy to ignore," Kakashi said. He thought back on what Jiraiya said. "You're familiar with her clan?"

Jiraiya grunted, nodding his head. "The old man had me look into them after she first came to the village. He tried to get some kinda investigation going in here but they couldn't get anywhere, so 'course, he had to hand it over to _me_."

Jiraiya trailed off into some unintelligible, annoyed mutterings, complete with an eye roll. He cleared his throat and kept going. "I thought it was a waste of time, but, you know how the old man is." He made a twirled, sarcastic motion with his hand. "Useful information, blah blah, potential allies, blah blah, you know. But I can tell you right now that there's not much interesting 'bout that clan outside of their blood limit. Buncha cranky bastards—and from what I gather, the main line all look just like her. Crazy red hair, weird eyes."

Kakashi put his book down and outright stared at Jiraiya.

"I know what you're thinking, and I don't know jack about where they came from," Jiraiya said. "Only two of my contacts—out of _hundreds_ —had ever heard of em, and both said they'd been nomadic for as long as they'd known. They do seem to stick to the east of the continent, but that's all I got. They keep to themselves. Could've been Uzu in the real early days, could be Kiri, could be Wave—who the hell knows."

"Ah."

"Wish I had more, kid. Really do."

* * *

Days went by where I didn't see Shikamaru.

We avoided each other. I either stayed in my house or avoided the compound, and Shikamaru kept to his backyard. It was fine for the few couple of days, but by the fourth and fifth, I was getting antsy. We didn't fight; there was a _reason_ Maen was surprised when I told him. Knowing that there was tension between us gnawed at me.

And so on day six, I ended up in his backyard, standing over him while he napped on the grass. He cracked one eye open to look at me and I plopped down beside him.

"Hi."

"Hey."

I let out a breath. "We need to talk."

Shikamaru sat up and shrugged, but I could read the discomfort in his posture—he felt the tension, the same as me.

"I went and apologized to Ino," I said.

"She told me you did. She was pretty happy about it." He scratched the back of his neck. "So… thanks."

"I didn't do it for you. I did it 'cause it was the right thing to do."

His eyebrow went all the way up and I made myself breathe again. My annoyance at him was coming back with a vengeance, but that wasn't going to be useful in this situation. Stomping my feet and taking shots at him wouldn't solve this.

Shikamaru, for his part, just said, "Okay."

"Do you even like… kind of understand why I was annoyed about what you said?"

"Not really."

"Alright." I twined my fingers together and pressed them against my lips. My mind worked through what I wanted to say, how I wanted to say it. "Have you ever had a crush on somebody?"

A monstrous blush lit up his face. His eyes widened, his shoulders moved back a bit. Embarrassment and surprise—two things I rarely saw with Shikamaru, and especially not at once.

He shook his head and said, "No."

That was a lie, plain and simple, but I'd let it go. "Remember when Kiba had a _huge_ crush on that girl a couple of grades above us during the Academy?" I asked. "Or, like… how Naruto gets whenever you bring up Sakura around him?"

Shikamaru nodded. The red faded from his face some. "Loud," he said. "They get really…" he made a face, "weird and creepy."

"Sure. So, okay. What if… I dunno… Kiba had a crush on me."

Something odd happened in his face. "He did, you know."

I blinked. "Huh?"

"Like, a year ago. He had a huge crush on you."

I thought back to my time in the Academy, but couldn't manage to sum up any memories that provided proof of this. I hadn't interacted with any of the kids in our year much, Kiba included. I stuck to Naruto and Shikamaru and Choji. "I'm… yeah, okay. Wasn't expecting that." I shook my head. "Back on topic. What if, uh… what if a year ago, when he had a crush on me, he followed me around a lot and I didn't like it. Would that be okay?"

"Obviously not."

I nodded. "Right. But… what if he did that, and I assumed that _all_ guys who ever had crushes did that. That it was just a 'normal' guy thing to do. That if _you_ ever had a crush on me, that you'd obviously stalk me because Kiba did it so all guys obviously do it. Clearly, that's not right, because Naruto's an idiot but he'd never stalk Sakura or make her feel weird, and I doubt you would either."

Shikamaru's face flamed again, but he nodded. "Alright, so what's your point?"

"You can't generalize people like that. That's why I was annoyed. You fucking… generalized the entire female population. Not all girls act the same way. Hell, look at Hinata. The entire village knows she has a crush on Naruto, except… you know, Naruto. But she's not loud or annoying."

I could see the wheels turning in his head. The frown stayed in place. His head tilted down, his eyes narrowed, and he moved his hand up into the telltale 'thinking position', though I doubted he realized it.

He could drag his heels on this. He _could_ , but I knew he wouldn't. Stubborn or not, when offered a day out, Shikamaru would take it.

So I was unsurprised when he finally said, "I'm sorry."

"Thank you."

He nodded and flopped onto his back.

I found some sincerity in the apology—I knew he entered the last conversation with good intentions and hadn't meant for it to become an argument. But, given that he admitted no wrong, I doubted that I'd changed his mind. I wasn't Naruto—I couldn't convert anybody to my side with one rousing speech.

Nara intelligence or not, Shikamaru was twelve. He had some growing up to do. When he was older I knew it could be a conversation, not an argument, was when it would be constructive to bring up again.

I couldn't force him to change. I could, however, instil a fear like nothing else into him.

"But if you say something stupid like that again, I'm totally gonna tell Ino and your mom."

His eyes shot open. "You wouldn't."

I grinned. "I would, and you know it."

Shikamaru groaned and pressed his palms against his eyes. "You're so damn troublesome."

"I know."

I fell down at his side and pressed my shoulder against his. He didn't try and move away, even as he kept muttering about troublesome best friends. I closed my eyes. There was no sun to kiss my skin or breeze to caress it, but I was comfortable where I was, listening to Shikamaru.

The tension between the two of us had dissipated. That hatchet was buried—for now. I knew that I would have to dig it up again one day, but right then, I was satisfied to leave it in the dirt.


	26. Chunin Exams: Part 6

_._

* * *

 _Not knowing is the greatest motivation in life._

* * *

 _Well, shit._

Kakashi held the mission scroll in a lazy grip. He was smiling, I thought, based on the lines imprinted into his mask, and completely casual as he told us, "We'll leave for the Land of Wind tomorrow afternoon. Pack to be gone for a week and a half. It'll take us three days to get there, but a bit over a week to walk back with the client."

I looked to Sasuke and Naruto—they weren't smiling, and neither was I.

A C-rank mission. Escort a nobleman from the Land of Wind to Konoha for the third part of the exam. It was a normal C-rank mission. Easy. Simple. I was stuck going in blind since it didn't happen in canon, given that most of Team 7 was busy preparing for the exam and couldn't take a mission, but that wasn't a huge problem.

It _shouldn't_ be a problem. Most of the missions I took in my ninja career would be blind like this. It was something I needed to get used to. There was a voice in the back of my head screaming about Wave and the million and one ways things went wrong during _that_ escort mission, but I gagged that annoyance and locked it away where it couldn't keep distracting me. This mission didn't have canon rubbing its grubby little hands all over it to turn it into a convoluted mess; it was a run of the mill C-rank.

This wouldn't be another Wave. I had to believe that.

I focused more on the worry I felt over being out of the village. The mission would bring us back to Konoha the day before the third part of the exam started, if we took to the full week and a half. That was days after Gaara would—in theory—attack Neji. With this mission, I had no chance to intervene.

There was nothing I could do about it other than hope that Gai would happen to be around, or that some other form of intervention would scare Gaara off. The situation was in fate's hands, not mine.

I was surprised by how bitter that thought felt as it churned through my head.

.

.

Even later that evening, hours after we'd been dismissed from training and I'd gotten home, started on my packing, my mind was stuck in the same rut.

I sat on my bed. Around me, my room was a complete mess from the process of packing, with my closet ripped apart and equipment scattered over my floor. My bag sat open in the middle of it all, a couple of scrolls visible inside of it. One held my bedroll, the other my spare clothes. I tossed the kunai pouch I was holding into the main compartment. Basic things, at least, could go into the scrolls, but anything sharp was better stored as is, done to avoid any chance of reaching into the seal and pulling your hand out a couple fingers short.

Maen was called out for a mission earlier this morning, leaving me alone. He never came back and I'd assumed he wasn't going to be before I left the next day.

It was just me and my thoughts.

In some ways, the situations with the mission and Neji made it feel like I was playing chess with a three-year-old. I was doing everything I could to keep tabs on Kabuto, watch for any sign of Orochimaru, monitor Gaara and the rest of the entourage from Suna, and take guesses as to how the invasion might play out. I knew I was missing some things, as it was impossible for me to stay on top of every thread that made up the spiderweb of the exams, but I was at least tryingto play by the rules this time around. And the universe? In response, it decided to toss the rulebook in a fire and make things up as it went, and I had no choice but to keep going, stuck in a game that I was starting to think I might not be able to win.

I fell back onto my bed and stared up at the ceiling, starfished on top of my covers. My fingers tried to curl inwards. I didn't let them. Instead, I pulled the pillow from behind my head and hugged it to my chest, my face buried beneath the top edge of it.

Then, of course, the mission.

The stupid, irrational coward inside of me was still locked away in the furthest recesses of my mind, drumming up every possible thing that could go wrong while we were gone.

Suna could come after us for taking their business. The escortee could turn out to be a Tazuna-copy and have some secret that meant ninja were after him. Gaara could make a move on Neji and kill him. Akatsuki could take an easy shot at Naruto while he's out of the village rather than wait for the invasion. Hell, the invasion could trigger early.

Letting my mind wander and spiral like this was an exercise in futility. None of these wild jumps were preventable. I was winding myself up and I _knew_ that, which was why I was doing my best to abandon it for something more constructive, but I couldn't shut it off.

I sighed.

My packing wasn't finished, not even close, but I found I no longer had the energy to keep going.

I turned onto my side and curled up with the pillow, my hair fanned out around me, a sea of auburn against the stark white of my covers and pillow. I would do it tomorrow. For now, I wanted to mope and get it out of my system.

* * *

I got to the front gates at noon.

I'd thrown my pack together at the last minute and put on the first clothes my hands grabbed, a plain grey t-shirt and dark green shorts, mesh underneath it all. I had my bracelets with me, but that was more habit than anything else. Kakashi forbade me from using them outside of practice, which was fair, much as I didn't want to admit it. My accuracy was getting _better_ , but it wasn't good. Not yet.

Sasuke was already there, Bisuke at his side. I got a grunt and a nod from Sasuke as greeting, and Bisuke trotted over to me when he saw me, tail wagging. I squatted down to give him a few pats.

"Hey, buddy," I said, one hand on top of his head and the other under his muzzle. "How're you doing?"

"I'm good, I'm good," Bisuke said.

He didn't talk to either of the boys, but since Kakashi had started to use the pack in my tracking training, both Bisuke and Urushi were beginning to talk to me, along with the rest of the pack. They were quiet about it. Even now, his answer was soft, only for my ears. They must've gotten a kick out of messing with the boys. Naruto was the only one who tried in earnest to get them to talk, but I knew Sasuke wanted to hear it too from how he always paid attention when Naruto really got into it, even if Sasuke tried to be discreet about his interest.

"Did they feed you?"

Bisuke snuffled. He made himself look pathetic, tail between his legs and ears pointed down, head lowering down.

My eyes rolled—I knew what that meant.

I slid my bag off my shoulder and dropped it down to the ground. It took a second of digging, but I produced a scroll with a mass of ration bars in it, more than I needed for the mission just in case, and pulled one out. I crushed it into bits for Bisuke on the ground.

From his spot leaning against the village walls, Sasuke frowned. "I fed him this morning."

"Yeah, I figured," I said. Of the boys, Sasuke was the one who consistently fed his ninken when Kakashi dumped one with him. Naruto gave Urushi ramen, sometimes. He tried. Sasuke just happened to do a better job, even if he did it grudgingly. "But the way to a dog's heart is through its stomach."

I stood up, dusting off my knees as I did. The gates were busy with the traffic brought on by the exams. Foreign nobles and merchants were coming in by the dozen, more and more with the approaching third part of the exam. The line of people coming in far outstretched the line of people going out, and most of those leaving were ninja—only one of the ten people waiting to leave wasn't wearing a headband.

Around us, the opening stretch of the village was alive with food stands and trinkets stalls, all overpriced, targeted at the incoming tourists. The money put into paying for extra security and amenities for the foreign ninja was made back and then some with the economic boost that tourists gave the village during this part of the exams.

I was tempted to grab something from one of the stalls, but I held off. My stomach had been doing somersaults all morning and I wasn't sure it'd take the food well. I avoided breakfast, hoping it'd calm down by this point. It wasn't showing any signs of easing, though.

I'd eat on the road. Probably.

I meandered over to where Sasuke was and sat myself down against the wall, comfortable while we waited for the rest of the team. Naruto, Urushi in tow, arrived not long after. Kakashi took a bit longer but by one in the afternoon, we were on our way out of the village.

.

.

We covered a fair amount of ground for the day. By the time dusk ripped across the sky, with red-tinged clouds imprinted on a purple canvas and the sun a smudge on the horizon, we were a third of the way to the client's meeting place, his property on the outskirts of Wind.

Kakashi had us set camp. Naruto was sent out to gather wood for the fire, Sasuke and I sent to hunt our dinner.

The foresting around us was thinner than the lush overgrowth of Konoha, but it was thick enough that I knew we hadn't yet crossed into the Land of River. We were nestled in a cluster of oak trees, their massive trunks providing us with solid cover on all sides.

I looked to Sasuke. I opened my mouth to offer a plan of action, but Sasuke beat me to it.

"You track it," he said. "I'll follow and finish it off."

I frowned. "It'll be faster if we each get our own rabbit. We need three or four, anyways, so we might as well just go off on our own."

"No."

"Why not? You're perfectly capable of tracking a rabbit—"

He turned and walked away into the depths of the forest, hands shoved in his pockets.

I rolled my eyes. _Great_. I went after his retreating figure and kept my eyes peeled for any signs of a mark. When I caught up, Sasuke slowed to a stop, watching me with a hard to decipher expression. I ignored him and focused on the task at hand.

It didn't take me long to get going on something.

Twigs crunched underfoot as I worked my way through the trees, following what bits of a trail I could pick up from a nearby rabbit. Mostly it was the scent, made more vibrant with chakra augmentation, but there was a smattering of footprints through the soil, obscured by fallen foliage, that I was able to use as well.

The loamy smell of the forest was overwhelming, rich and heavy. But among it, I managed to pick out the sourness of rabbit droppings, and that was what I followed. Sasuke kept a pace or two behind me with a kunai at the ready.

Five minutes in was when I found the first one. I crouched, approached slow, careful not to spook it, and spotted a brown ball of fur camouflaged in the dirt and ruffage. I didn't have to say anything. From behind me, Sasuke nailed it in the side with the kunai, an incapacitating shot, and then went over and finished the job.

I turned an eye to the sky—it was going to be dark soon.

"We really should split up," I said. "We've only got half an hour before it's dark. Maybe sooner."

Sasuke was knelt in front of the rabbit, using some dirt to clear the blood from his kunai. He didn't even look up at me when he said, "No."

"You can track a rabbit just as well as I can, and it's not like we're going to get attacked in the middle of a fucking _forest_."

Sasuke didn't answer.

I couldn't help the annoyed noise that left my mouth. "Come on," I said. "At least give me one good reason—"

Sasuke stood up, his movements stiff and abrupt. The rabbit was held loose at his side and when he turned to face me, he had a glare set in place, his mouth a tight line. "Whatever," he spat. "Have it your way."

He stalked off.

In his signature, I could sense anger I expected to feel, but mixed in there was something I'd only really seen from him during Wave: fear. It was unfamiliar in Sasuke's signature, but unmistakable.

I felt like an idiot.

I closed my eyes, all of the frustration draining out of me. "Wait."

He stopped.

"You're right," I said. "Kakashi sent us out together, so… yeah. Sorry. Shouldn't have tried to fight you on it."

I saw the expression on his face smooth out into a neutral expression and the tension ease from his posture. He took a second to appraise me, his gaze sharp but, surprisingly, curious rather than angry. Once that thought hit my mind, I saw his expression in a new light—while mostly neutral, he seemed almost baffled.

It was an odd thing to stand there and wonder if it was the first time I'd ever apologized to him.

It was a thought process going through my mind more and more lately.

And then, he nodded at me.

I jogged over to him and got to work on finding a different trail. We probably wouldn't manage to get them all before dark, but I supposed that would have to be fine.

.

.

The nightmares came in the dark.

A bloody hospital room coated in a layer of sand. Snakes hissing, wreaking havoc on the village and curling themselves around me, suffocating me, biting me. The stench of death and decay stuck in the air, carried on the smoke of fires that burned anywhere my gaze turned, one house after another turned to ash.

It was a cycle. Fall asleep, have a nightmare, jolt awake. After the third time, I decided to lay awake and watch the stars. The sleep wasn't worth it anymore.

.

.

We set out relatively early in the morning, only having set camp for a short part of the night—a couple of hours to eat and relax, then six hours of sleep, with each of us taking shifts of an hour and a half to guard. The sun was up when we left, but only just. The sky would still be dark if it wasn't the middle of the summer.

Our formation was simple as we flew through the trees. A diamond formation, with Kakashi in the rear, Sasuke right point, Naruto left point, and I was at the front. Unlike Wave, I wasn't allowed to scout ahead. Something about not enough enemy potential to warrant a loose formation.

That made sense for while we were in Fire Country, but not once we crossed into the Land of River in the middle of the day. But Kakashi didn't make any move to change it and I wasn't willing to argue. It wasn't worth adding to the already clear tension.

Kakashi was playing his usual role of 'silent until an opportunity for a one liner presents itself' while Naruto and Sasuke slowly drove each other insane.

Naruto, in his nervousness, was louder and more obnoxious than usual. He was instigating, no two ways about it. He knew which buttons on Sasuke to push to achieve the most result and though he had gotten better over the last few weeks at resisting the urge, he was going wild now.

Sasuke, in his nervousness, was quieter and more irritable than usual. He wanted to be left in silence. And when he wasn't allowed to be, he reacted, harsh and fast—frankly, too harsh and too fast.

The whole thing was a recipe for disaster, and it felt like a minor miracle that neither of them had throttled the other by the time we broke for lunch.

It continued through lunch.

I expected Kakashi to let it slide like he always did. And for the most part, I was right. He didn't chastise either of them or try and _talk_ to them about it, but he took a more subtle approach.

He sent them on different jobs for minimal interaction and sat right between the two of them while we ate, like a human meat shield. And when we broke after our meal, Kakashi shifted the formation so that I was on point with him while Naruto and Sasuke were at rear and front respectively. Even his jibes, while overall immature and unhelpful, were distributed evenly, and did diffuse a few of the more heated exchanges between the boys.

I wanted him to do more, but I would take what I could get, especially since I wasn't sure there _was_ anything that would make them stop.

I was surprised by how tame Kakashi kept our pace through to the Land of Wind. By the third day, we were at the southwestern border between River and Wind, but we chose to set up camp and get the rest of the way the next day instead of pushing on through the night.

It was easier to make camp in the forested parts of River now than to make it in the desert later.

Kakashi had Naruto gather firewood, me hunt, and Sasuke set up a perimeter around the camp, the latter necessary now that we were out of Fire. He pointed me in a vaguely western direction of the camp—he said there was a river where the animals would be convening. Who would imagine, a river in the Land of Rivers?

I gave a half-hearted attempt at going that way, following the river for a few minutes without any signs of life, before I decided to wander off in whichever direction I found a trail.

Small mammals were the ideal. They were abundant and easy to haul around. However, I caught the scent of a bear, and while I knew we wouldn't be able to make use of all the meat, we would use enough. It was the chance to kill one mark over a handful.

The bear wasn't too hard to find once I got onto the trail. The scent was pungent and the tracks were strong, not to mention that a bear was big enough to emit a chakra signature. It wasn't much, but when I really pushed at my chakra sense, both for detail and distance, I was able to get a read on it once I was close.

But it wasn't the only thing I got a read on, not by a long shot.

I'd looped around the camp after following Kakashi's initial western lead. The track took me a twenty-minute walk east of the camp, instead. I wasn't far. I had my old weights on still, and with them empty I figured a bit of a chakra boost was all I'd need to get the thing back to camp.

Except, once I got close to the bear, there was something I sensed that made me go past it, something that I wanted to be sure I was sensing. I wondered if it was a hallucination from a lack of sleep that came with missions, or not eating enough, but it wasn't.

There was a cluster of ninja huddled right at the edge of my sense. It was panic inducing until I realized that right in the middle of those signatures were two very familiar ones, bright and distinct once I got closer, one far more so than the other. I could sense Maen and Jiraiya. There wasn't a shadow of a doubt in my mind that they were there, and they were real.

I stood frozen, one hand pressed against the rough trunk of a tree, bark biting into the palm of my hand from how hard I gripped it, for a solid five minutes. They didn't move. It seemed they were camped, too.

My mind stuttered to a stop. For the whole mission, it'd spiraled, spun into wild conclusions and worst-case scenarios. This development brought it to a screeching halt.

Autopilot kicked in and I pushed myself away from the tree. I went back over to where I tracked the bear to. Its den was in a hollow tree and, knowing that there was nobody around to take notice, I pulled a low-grade explosive tag from my pack and tossed it into the cave. The bear would have a quick death and I wouldn't have to worry about getting my hands messy.

I dragged the carcass back to camp, smoke still curling off its fur.

"Whoa!" Naruto cried when he saw it. "A bear? That's so cool!"

He had a small fire going strong in the middle of camp. Kakashi was lounged out on top of his bedroll, orange book open in front of him, one hand lazily reached out to catch the heat of the fire.

"Yeah, yeah," I said. For his sake, I forced a grin. "Why don't you go get some more wood? We might need a bigger fire for this."

Naruto whined from his spot by the fire. "Awh… come on. I'm so comfy!"

"Go. It'll take a bit to cut this thing up, so you gotta wait either way."

He dragged himself up and shuffled off into the forest.

I dropped the body of the bear right beside Kakashi, who pulled himself up into a proper sitting position and set his book down beside him. "This hardly seems necessary," he said.

I pulled a kunai from my holster and got down to the task of carving out the meat. It was disgusting and uncomfortable, but not unfamiliar. One of the first tests of your mettle in the Academy was skinning your first rabbit on the class camping trips.

"Why are Maen, Jiraiya, and a squad of ninja stationed a two-and-a-half-hour walk east of the camp?"

"If you were a good student, you would have come back with a deer or something from the mouth of the river west from here."

"It sucked so I tracked something else," I said. "I'd like an answer to my question."

"I can't give you one."

I looked up, knife buried in the bear's flesh. His expression was flat. It could have been mistaken for boredom, on somebody else, but I read it as a neutral expression that verged on annoyed.

"Fucking _fantastic_."

"Forget that you saw anything," Kakashi said. " _You're_ on a normal escort mission."

He watched me. I found I had nothing else to say to him.

Secrets were being kept from us, and that didn't sit well with me.

I jerked the kunai back, the blade slicing straight through the flesh like it was made of butter. Four chunks of meat were sectioned off. I cut them into smaller pieces and stuck them onto sticks that were sharpened and cleaned for this purpose. The rest of the meat went into one of the storing scrolls I'd packed that were able to hold organic material. There were a few of them in my pack, this time. Just in case.

They were useful. While not meant explicitly for this situation, it was better to store seal the rest of the bear meat and dump the scroll somewhere than leave the carcass out where it could attract wildlife.

The meat was placed by the fire to cook and I went to wash my hands off. Kakashi went back to reading his book.

I was tempted to mention something to the boys. Maybe not Naruto, but Sasuke, at least, because I didn't think he'd do anything stupid if I told him about it. I chose not to. As infuriating as it was that they weren't telling us everything, I had to hope there was a reason for it, and that it was better to respect that.

Still, that didn't make it any easier for me to fall asleep that night as fears for tomorrow plagued my mind.


	27. Chunin Exams: Part 7

_._

* * *

 _When all else fails, determination outlasts._

* * *

I drew in a shaky breath and leaned back on my haunches, staring at my half-packed bag, bathed in the early morning sun's glow. A slight bite in the air nipped at my arms and legs. I enjoyed it while it was there; the temperature would take a turn towards scorching once we crossed over into the Land of Wind around noon that day.

Naruto and Sasuke worked to break camp on either side of me, blissfully silent. Kakashi stood at the edge of what remained of our camp and read. The only noises around us were the chirps and creaks of a forest waking up, with birds skittering around in search for worms and a whispered breeze calling the trees to life.

I raised a hand to my eyes and examined the burgeoning sunrise a bit to my right—it was somewhere in the range of seven in the morning. We had minutes before we were set to leave, hours before we were set to encounter our client.

Or, as my paranoid mind was beginning to suspect, our "client."

I found that I couldn't relax now that I knew things weren't anywhere as simple as Kakashi led us to believe they were. Maen and Jiraiya and the rest of their party were too far from the camp for me to sense them, but I couldn't get my mind off of it and how Kakashi had answered me when I'd questioned him over all of this.

"You're _on a normal escort mission._ "

The implication that Kakashi's mission was different from ours wasn't lost on me. I'd wager anything that whatever Maen and Jiraiya were doing here, that was the real mission we'd been sent out for. And I didn't like _anything_ about that. It was one thing to go into this mission blind when it was meant to be a regular C-rank, but now that it had developed into something else? A something else that involved this much firepower? It was the kind of validation that my paranoia really didn't need.

Plot twists like these would be the death of me.

"Ha! Hey look—I finished packing before _both of you_!"

"Shut _up_."

I tipped my head back, a sigh on my lips.

My morning was off to a _great_ start.

.

.

We followed the northern border of Wind for the rest of our trip. The area was mountainous and vibrant compared to the endless desert of central Wind, but I barely noticed—my attention was on keeping my footing and scanning every inch of the world around me for chakra signatures.

Maen and Jiraiya were on the tips of my radar, edging their way around us as we got closer to our destination. After a point, Maen and the other ANBU dampened their signatures and Jiraiya's disappeared, gone in an instant.

I had a gut instinct about who our client was.

It wasn't a hard list to narrow down. Whocould require Kakashi, Maen, and entire squad of what I assumed were ANBU, and Jiraiya present to take them down? Tobi, probably. Or Itachi. Maybe a few of the other future S-rank threats. But my number one suspect was Orochimaru.

After climbing in elevation for most of the day, we found ourselves at the edge of a tiny village, placed right near the northern border where Wind met with Earth. On a winding hill that was pressed against a mountain side, a collection of small but sturdy-looking huts were built into earth, spread out amongst what few patches of fertile land could be found. The hill spiralled up, the houses growing more sparse towards the top until the hill evened out with the top of the mountain. Up there was a massive manor that stretched out with a perfect view of the whole village, the crown jewel of the village.

On the surface, it was a normal village. Rural and quiet. But it took a step towards unnerving when I noticed that it was empty of life save for one person, right at the top.

The signature was dulled and slowed; it was well hidden, by all accounts. If I hadn't been looking for him, I might not have even noticed the subtle parts of it that set it apart from an actual civilian. But I _was_ and I _did_. There was an unnaturalness to it, an itching feeling that something about it was _off_ , like the uncanny valley but with chakra. It was enough to stop me dead in my tracks.

Kakashi, who had been keeping tabs on me since the second the village came into view, set a firm hand on my shoulder and propelled me forward.

"What the _fuck_ is this?" I hissed, grateful that Naruto and Sasuke were out of earshot.

"A mission."

"Who thought this was a good idea?"

"Nobody."

I tried to stop again, but his grip brokered no arguments. I settled for craning my neck up to look at him and glaring. "You're just going to leave us in the dark against that?"

"Tight schedule," he said lightly. He met my gaze and his eyes were sharp, at odds with the cheerful tone of his voice. "You know how it goes, hmm? Impolite to keep people waiting."

He dropped his hand from my shoulder.

I could feel everybody moving into their positions around the village. Maen and his ninja were scattered around the base of the hill. For obvious reasons, I had no idea where Jiraiya was, but I assumed it was somewhere either with the ANBU or closer up to the "client." They were set up like this was intended to be an ambush, which didn't make any sense to me. This wasn't a stealthy enough approach against anybody with a semblance of chakra sensing abilities, which I was confident this person would have.

 _What's their game?_

We worked our way up through the village. It didn't take long for Sasuke to start to notice that something was awry, given the way his expression shifted from its usual annoyance into a careful suspicion. Naruto didn't seem to notice. He was too busy trying to guess at what our client would look like.

"I wonder if he'll be fat. I mean, we're going all the way up, right? So he's probably super rich! Man… he'll definitely be fat, then. He probably won't be nice. They're never nice. Hmm… oh, man! His house! We'll get to go inside that thing! It looks _huge_ from all the way down here. Do you think he has, like, servants? Rich people got those, right? Lots of servants and cooks and…"

"Shut up," Sasuke said.

"Hey! Don't tell me to—"

" _Shut up and look around._ "

"Eh?"

"Doesn't something seem off to you?" Sasuke demanded.

Kakashi leaned down and murmured, "Run at my signal." I snapped around to look at him, but he was already moving ahead to where the boys had stopped. He patted them both on the head.

"Nothing to worry about here," he said. It was scary how genuine it sounded. "Let's keep moving along, kiddies."

Naruto launched back into his babbling. Sasuke turned back to look at me and I knew my expression was less than reassuring.

Despite there being not a single soul in sight, there were signs of life all over the village. Smoke lazily drifted up from smokestacks, laundry sat on its lines and dried out in the heat of the afternoon. At one point, I almost stepped on a half-finished game of tic-tac-toe scrawled out in the dirt, the sticks used to play it left abandoned beside it.

There was no blood, no bodies, no sign of a tragedy—it was as if everybody up and left, however implausible that sounded.

The manor up at the top was as run of the mill as it could be. Black, sloped rooftops over cream-coloured walls, with a slew of rectangular windows pressed into them. The building itself matched the windows in shape, one giant rectangle encased by a short wall of black concrete that was more for show than anything else. The tips of blossom branches peeked up from the inner courtyard of the building. In all, it was a lovely sight of opulence and comfort, ruined by the ugly face that welcomed us the second we stepped past the threshold.

A fat man in his late sixties, dressed in luxurious, red silks, and covered from head to toe in jewellery. He was almost bald in the way that all old men were. What thin spindles of hair he had left were gathered into a precarious bun atop his head, looking like it might fall off hit by a harsh enough blast of wind.

But the outside matched the inside, in that _something_ was off about him, despite there being no clear red flags. I found myself on high alert.

This was a trap, it had to be, regardless of the fact that there was no noticeable chakra output to create a henge or any other visual genjutsu. I found myself remembering that Orochimaru literally wore skins as a disguise, something that I would have seen with my own eyes had we gone through the chunin exams.

Sometimes, I fucking hated being right.

"Hello," he said, beckoning them closer. "You must be the ninja I have hired."

I felt the position of the ninja shift up a bit closer.

Kakashi put himself at the front of our group. "That's us."

He strolled forward, slouched, not seeming to be in any rush, and Naruto and Sasuke followed behind him. I felt like I was wading through waist-deep water as I did the same. Sasuke held back a bit, and I came to stand beside him.

"Wonderful. I am grateful that you were able to arrive so soon," Probably-Orochimaru said. "I have been _eagerly_ awaiting this."

"The exams are always a treat to see," Kakashi said, perfectly conversational.

Again, the ANBU inched closer. It seemed idiotic—who were they trying to fool? There was no _way_ that Probably-Orochimaru couldn't feel them coming, even with their signatures suppressed and a field genjutsu in place to further mask their presence, blurring and dispersing their chakra on my sense. But Jiraiya was nowhere to be found. Maybe Probably-Orochimaru could sense Jiraiya, even though he was completely hidden from me. Maybe he couldn't.

Given where I was, I had to hope for the former.

"What adorable little ninja," Probably-Orochimaru said. He clasped his hands behind his back. "Are you three excited for the exams?"

Naruto, oblivious to the entire rest of the situation, grinned at this. "Oh yeah! We didn't get to be in it, but it's gonna be super cool to watch!"

Probably Orochimaru chuckled. "So I see. And what of you both?"

 _Why is he dragging this out?_

 _For the love of God, just attack us and get it over with._

My mouth was dry, but I managed a strained, "Sure."

Sasuke grunted.

I hoped that would be the end of it, but Probably-Orochimaru zeroed in on me, a delighted expression on his face. "Are you feeling unwell, child? You look a bit pale."

"It's been a hard day's travel," Kakashi answered for me. "It seems to have gotten the best of her."

"So I see." Probably-Orochimaru rolled his shoulders and shivered. "What wonderful news that is."

Kakashi went rigid. He didn't break the act yet, but he lifted one hand towards his head in preparation, feigning scratching it.

Probably-Orochimaru's head tipped back and a set of hands appeared in his mouth.

Behind his back, Kakashi formed a single sign with his hands, but it wasn't a hand seal. It was just one word: _run_.

I couldn't move. My legs wouldn't work. I watched, transfixed and horrified, as the entire skin-shell split open and Probably-Orochimaru became Definitely-Orochimaru, revealing himself in a mass of vile chakra and killing intent.

It was like facing against Zabuza, but worse.

Thick and heavy, tar poured down my throat, a snake wrapped its entire body around my very being and filled me with venom, tight, tight, _tight_. My knees went weak. I _shook_. Having my chakra sense wide open made it worse, so much worse, yet I couldn't seem to shut it off, I couldn't _stop looking_ , _please stop looking stop paying attention stop._

 _Stop stop stop._

Kakashi didn't wait for us, didn't give us another signal. He shot forward like a bullet and tackled a goo-covered Orochimaru. The ANBU from the ground soared up the rest of the mountain, landing one by one to encircle Kakashi and Orochimaru.

A hand clamped onto my wrist and nearly yanked me off of my feet. I tripped, not expecting it, and just regained my footing as I was pulled away from the scene by Sasuke, whose other hand was dragging Naruto as well.

The air behind us was filled with the harsh sounds of metal on metal.

I didn't let myself look back.

.

.

Kakashi held back, monitoring the progress of his students as they traversed the mountain path away from the village.

For now, the ten or so ANBU agents were entertaining Orochimaru. Kakashi wouldn't lie to himself—he knew that was all they were doing. They were alive by virtue of Orochimaru being arrogant and easily amused, a cat playing with a mouse before delivering the divisive blow.

Kakashi dropped and rolled on instinct, and a snake's head soared past where he had been standing and crashed into the pitiful concrete wall. He looked back to the fighting in the middle of the courtyard and saw that Orochimaru was laughing and smiling, revelling in the battle. He dodged all the blows aimed at him, not bothering to fight back.

Another snake came his way. Kakashi was ready for it now, though, and in the time it took for the snake to travel from Orochimaru to where he was, Kakashi had his hand alight with a chidori. His fist met with the underbelly of the snake as it flew overhead and sliced the thing clean open.

"Well, that wasn't very nice!" Orochimaru called. His laugh and smile died. "You're all boring."

One by one, Orochimaru started to swat the ANBU away from him like flies. He didn't seem to even care enough to aim for lethal blows—he just lashed out like the viper he was. Fallen after fallen after fallen.

And then he was on Kakashi.

Kakashi raised an arm to deflect kunai tossed his way, and a second later he shuffled a step over to avoid the path of a blade as it whistled by.

The blade flew back to Orochimaru, who didn't press Kakashi further. Instead, he stood with his hip cocked and his free hand rested on it. His tongue flicked over his lips. "I remember the last time we were here," Orochimaru said. "You were so much cuter! Wee, baby Hatake, who couldn't even manage to raise a blade against me. My, how you've grown."

Kakashi rocked back on his heels.

"Not going to answer me?" Orochimaru asked.

A shit-eating grin worked its way onto Kakashi's face and he shrugged.

Whatever it took to keep Orochimaru's attention on him. That was what he needed. Buy the ANBU a few seconds, Jiraiya another two minutes, and his students as long as possible.

In the background, the ANBU began to regroup, picking themselves up and forming their offensive positions once again.

Orochimaru grinned. "Ah, ah, ah!"

He raised the sword and whipped around, swinging the blade in a wide arc as he turned. A violent surge of wind followed the blade's path and sliced across the whole other half of the courtyard. All of the ANBU but one managed to avoid it. The unlucky agent let out a short, gurling scream, that ceased when he fell to the ground in two heaps, sliced clean in half.

Orochimaru turned back around to Kakashi. He readied his blade. "Now then. Your turn. Entertain me, son of the White Fang."

.

.

We were halfway down the village's path when I heard the scream.

I stumbled at the sound. It was blood-curdling and distinctly male, and for a single, heart-wrenching second, I thought it could be Maen. My chakra sense was closed out of necessity—without it, I couldn't see much past the overwhelming presence of Orochimaru. I had no way to try and feel for his familiar signature.

I didn't think it was him. That wasn't the sound of his voice.

But still.

 _What if?_

Sasuke gave my wrist a sharp jerk to keep me from falling behind. " _Go_."

I shook my head and forced out those worries. It wasn't Maen. It couldn't be Maen.

Even as I tried, I couldn't seem to keep my mind straight. Having all of that chakra getting tossed around up there was like a flashlight being shined in my eyes, the light growing brighter each time a technique was used, even with my sense as closed as I could get it. The further away we got the easier it was. But we were still _so close_.

 _Please let him be okay._

We zigzagged down the jagged mountain paths. One wrong step could send us tumbling down the side of the mountain, something that would at best be a fall of a few feet and cause minor injury, and at worst kill us.

 _Let them all be okay._

I hopped over discarded carts and under laundry lines, cutting the most efficient way through the flat areas.

 _Please, just let them be okay._

Through a perilously thin path, Naruto started to slip over the side, and I hauled him back up by the sleeve of his jacket.

 _I need them to be okay._

We hit the bottom of the hill at a sprint.

There were two options open to us, at that point: we could keep going south, where the rocky ground levelled out into sand, or we could keep to the mountains and head east.

South would be safer to travel through but left us wide open. East was a bit more dangerous, requiring the same care that coming back down the hill took but providing some semblance of cover.

Sasuke pointed east and said, "That way."

"Right."

But Naruto wasn't paying any attention—he'd turned around to stare up at the top of the hill, where flames and gusts of wind and lighting erupted from behind what remained of the concrete walls. His fists were clenched at his side.

"Naruto," I said.

"Kaka, I don't—"

"I know," I mumbled, my throat tight. " _I know_. I'm sorry."

He gave a harsh nod and wiped away the moisture that'd started pooling in his eyes.

I grabbed his hand and twined my fingers through his, and started to pull him along beside me as we continued our way down.

.

.

Maen hated this plan. He hated every single part of it.

He hated how close the kids— _his_ kid—got to one of the most powerful ninja ever produced by Konoha. He hated how it hinged on Orochimaru's mannerisms. He hated the inevitable losses he was inflicting on not one, but two ANBU squads.

And most of all, he hated that it was _his_ plan, and the best chance they had at taking Orochimaru down. He felt like he should have something better. He was a Nara. This was their entire claim to fame. But with what they had to work with, this was the best that he could do, and the best that he could do had already gotten two of his comrades killed and two more injured.

He watched Kakashi and Orochimaru go back and forth and knew that if he didn't call Jiraiya in soon, that death count would go from two to three.

To give him credit, Kakashi held his own better than Maen would have guessed. The two of them had been at it for a minute, already, and all Kakashi had to show for it were some sword slashes along his arms, one on his side, and what Maen assumed was a couple of broken ribs. But all of those were starting to slow Kakashi down.

In this fight, Kakashi was at a distinct disadvantage—he was able to fight at a high level in all disciplines, but he specialized in ninjutsu, relied on it, and Orochimaru wasn't giving him any chance to fire off jutsu. The speed difference between the two was clear. Just to keep up, Kakashi had to have his sharingan open and it was sapping his chakra at an unsustainable rate.

Orochimaru used the sword to take pot shots at Kakashi while he himself fired off all manners of long-distance jutsu. He cackled as he went, not letting Kakashi stop for even a second.

Maen watched Kakashi duck and weave, trying to keep the injured out of the crossfire.

Two of the remaining ANBU picked themselves up off of the ground and, together, launched themselves at Orochimaru. The sword caught them before they got within an arm's length. One was run through, the other narrowly dodged.

Kakashi took the opening and dove at Orochimaru with a chidori, the second of the fight, and got a chakra scalpel to the side for his troubles. Kakashi stumbled back and his hand went to staunch the bleeding. It wouldn't do much. A wound like that from a chakra scalpel was going to require immediate medical attention, or he'd bleed out, whether from the surface wound or the internal damage.

"Oh, oh!" Orochimaru cried. He waggled his finger at the body of the now dead Crane, held in midair by the sword. "You almost got me on that one, so close! A shame."

The sword angled itself downward and the body slid off.

Orochimaru sighed, examining the blade. "You've gotten so dirty. I'm going to have to wash you when we get home."

Maen clenched his jaw.

There were another thirty seconds before Jiraiya was set to make his appearance, but they couldn't wait any longer. They were now down three ninja, five if he counted the two that were too injured to be of much use in a combat situation, seven if he included the two medic-nin that were forbidden from engaging. That left him, Bear, Fish, and Kakashi in proper fighting condition.

They were dead in the water, at this point.

Maen reached into his pocket and clicked the comms receiver once, twice, three times. And half a second later, there was a blur of motion as Jiraiya launched himself onto the scene in a furious flurry of chakra.

.

.

We went for as long as we could.

For a time, the ground was stable and we covered some serious distance, but eventually we hit a point where our choices were slow down or fall. So we slowed down. A fall wasn't a death sentence, anymore; the side of the mountain sloped down in a smoother way, rather than the sharp, sheer drops from before.

I thought our chances might be looking up a bit.

Then I felt it.

An initial explosion of chakra, palpable even from a distance. And then another.

"Wait," I said, turning in the direction of it.

"What?" Sasuke asked.

"Something… there's something going on up there, but I…" I hesitated. I let out a short breath and, against my better judgement, opened the full spectrum of my chakra sense.

The overwhelming amount of chakra blinded me. But I kept looking. My eyes adjusted and I started to get a bit more, and a bit more, and some of the details became clearer.

"Jiraiya's there…" I said. "It's him and… and that guy going at it right now."

"What about Kakashi?" Naruto asked.

I squinted. "I, uh… it's hard to really see?" Already, I could feel a headache coming on, pounding against my skull in time with my racing heart. "I can _kind_ of see him, though, so he is alive."

 _And so was Maen._

The relief of feeling that sliver of his chakra, _there_ , made it that much easier to breathe.

"But the two of them are really going at it," I mumbled.

"Who's winning?" Sasuke asked.

"Neither of them? I don't—"

And then, out of nowhere, there was a release of chakra that I could only relate to the sensation of a bomb going off. A strangled cry left my lips and I cut out my chakra sense, but not fast enough. Like accidentally looking into the sun, the sight of it left splotches in my vision and a part of my brain felt like it'd been singed. I pressed the heels of my palms into my eyes to try and ease the sensation.

"What?" Sasuke grabbed my elbow and pulled my hand away. "What did you see?"

"Fuck… that was a lot of chakra," I croaked. "I don't know what it was from, though."

"Look again."

I swallowed and looked again. It was hard for me to make much of anything out, now. The fight seemed to be over given that there was no activity up there. The signatures were scattered around the village, and all but two were stagnant.

Both of the active signatures were heading towards us.

Orochimaru was on his way and Jiraiya was too far behind him to make a difference.

"Oh… oh no."

" _What_?"

 _You're screwed._ "We're dead," I mumbled.

There was no way we could run from that.

I expected fear or panic. Some anxiety, maybe, a tightness in my chest and a shake in my hands, the lump in my throat that made swallowing feel like rubbing pieces of sandpaper together. Anything other than the numb void that swallowed me whole.

Fuck, I was so tired of all of this.

But I forced myself to go along with the boys as they sprinted away with renewed vigour.

As scared as I'd been throughout the day, a part of me was confident that whatever plan they'd hatched out, it would succeed. They wouldn't put us in this position unless they knew that they could win without a shadow of a doubt. Not even the team as a whole, but Naruto and Sasuke. The valuable assets on this team.

Now it seemed to have failed in spectacular fashion, and there was an S-rank ninja coming for us. Even as we ran I knew we had mere seconds before he would be here, flying over what we had to scale with care, covering the same distance in a fraction of the time.

 _How do you tell somebody that they're about to die?_

In the books I read growing up, it was a common thing to see a heroic character go down in glorious fashion. That was especially true in Konoha. So much of the fiction was pumped out for an audience of would be ninja, whose deaths were an inevitability.

 _How do you accept it for yourself?_

The hero always died and when they did, there was that one moment of self-awareness near the end, where they would reminisce on what they've achieved in their life. They found satisfaction in their end. They accepted it. There was a sense of peace in the hero being able to give their life for the cause, going down as a good and noble warrior.

 _You don't._

That wouldn't be me.

Despite the doom and gloom I felt, the numbness, I never was one to roll over and accept defeat.

Orochimaru was behind us and I knew who he had eyes for. In the short, short, short time I had to react, not even enough time to think about what I was doing, I bowled into Sasuke with my shoulder and knocked him off his balance.

I didn't know if it did anything. I didn't have time to see.

One second I was throwing myself to the left, right into Sasuke's side, and the next the world around me was black and I was gone.

.

.

There was a hand on his head. That was the first thing Maen was aware of.

The second thing to come was the memory of Orochimaru blowing the entire village to hell.

Maen pulled himself up into a sitting position, and the hand that was on his head moved down to his shoulder to help him.

"Sir?" the owner of the voice asked. That was Dove's voice.

Maen shook himself off and forced his eyes open. The world was a bit blurry—he'd taken a blow to his head, alright, enough to knock his mask off.

But over Dove's shoulder, he could see the shattered remains of the village. Huts were crushed, crops were demolished. Some of the debris was pooled at the base of the hill but he figured most of it had continued down to the bottom of the mountain.

"Report."

"Doe sealed the wound on Hatake's side—just sealed it, she didn't do anything about the internal damage—and Hatake departed. Bear followed after him, since he was uninjured. Right now, Dove's working on Fish."

"Orochimaru?"

Dove hesitated.

" _Where_?" Maen demanded.

"The kids."

"For fuck's—get me up, now."

Dove obliged, hauling him up to his feet. Enough was healed that Maen could keep his feet under him. He'd get proper treatment when there wasn't an S-rank threat within spitting distance. Dove reached into her pack and pulled out a blank mask that she handed to Maen, something that most ANBU medics carried with them.

Maen secured it in place and took off towards the east, the way he'd felt the kids flee earlier on.

They didn't have to go far. He found them in a dip of the mountain, where the ground was flattened out before it continued to flow downwards.

Naruto was unconscious. Sasuke was unconscious, Jiraiya bent over him. And Kasumi's chakra signature was weakly fluttering some fifty metres away, past the edge where Kakashi and Bear were hovering. Maen ran over to join them and spotted her.

Her body was strewn over the ground like a rag doll. She must've caught on a rock or a bump in the mountain, something that could stop her momentum. He saw some blood from minor cuts and abrasions along her skin. Nothing seemed to be bent at unnatural angles. But he knew that the worst of it could be internal and there was no way to know _how_ much damage there was from far away.

 _Calm._

 _Composure._

Dove stood beside him at attention. Her gaze kept moving between him and Kasumi, and her shoulders were turned just enough to keep both of them within her line of sight.

"Dove," Maen said.

"Sir."

"Get her up here and get me a status report."

"Yes, sir."

Maen switched on his comms. "Doe?"

"Sir."

"Report."

"Fish has been stabilized, sir. There are some minor injuries but his life is in no danger. Really, once he wakes up, he should be to walk on his own, so long as it's light travel."

Maen glanced around their little area, contemplating his options. "Good work. If you've done all you can, bring him over here—we'll send him back to the village for proper medical attention."

"Right away, sir."

Jiraiya was still bent over Sasuke, having not glanced up for even a second since Maen got there. Maen made his way over and realized his initial sweep wasn't accurate—Sasuke actually _was_ conscious, but he wasn't in any condition to do much of anything. His skin was pale and beaded with sweat, his face screwed up in pain even as he remained dead silent.

"Orochimaru got him with a curse seal," Jiraiya said before Maen could ask. "But he didn't get a clean shot. It's half-formed."

"Clean shot?"

"Based on what intel I have, he uses his snakes to apply the seals. Whatever happened, the snake didn't get a proper bite on the kid—it's keeping the seal from really digging its nails into him. I might be able to unwind it and undo the seal before the tainted chakra can get into the kid's system."

Maen knew little about seals, but he'd gotten some intel regarding cursed seals. He'd taken squads through a couple of Orochimaru's abandoned labs. He'd seen reports around the Anko Mitarashi situation. It was fortunate that the mark didn't fully form—having a proper curse seal on the last Uchiha was a disaster waiting to happen.

But he supposed it did explain where Orochimaru's initial interest in Team 7 came from.

"What about Orochimaru?" Maen asked.

"North," Jiraiya grunted. "I got a couple of good shots on him, so I know he's injured, and that'll be slowing him down. I was going to follow him, but between the kid's seal and the fox—"

"The fox?" Maen asked, voice harsh.

"Yes, the fox. You didn't feel that?"

"I wasn't awake to feel anything."

Jiraiya jerked his chin towards Naruto. "He blew up. Shocker of shockers. I knocked him out before he could do any damage to anything."

Maen pinched the bridge of his nose. "Great. Okay." He changed the channel on his comms and asked, "Dove, where's my report?"

"I can't move her, sir," Dove's voice answered. "I need to repair the damage to her neck and back before it's safe."

"How long is that going to take you?"

"Fifteen minutes—and that's just repairing enough so that she can be moved. Some of this damage… it's not possible to heal in a field setting."

Maen let out a long, slow breath.

 _She's alive. That's what matters._

He was ANBU Owl right now, not Maen Nara. He couldn't freak out about this. He had a job to do.

Doe arrived at their location with Fish in her arms, bridal style. Maen made a motion with his hand to beckon her over.

He put a hand onto his comm again. "Dove?"

"Sir."

"I'm sending you back with Jiraiya and the kids," he said. "You'll be taking Fish with you. Keep her and Kasumi stable. It'll be slow going, so you should be able to manage both, but if you think either of them are starting to fail, you have my permission to break away and get to the village yourself, but only if absolutely necessary. I don't want to take any risks with this group."

He had half a mind to send Doe back with them, as well, so there'd be a medic for each of the injured, but he couldn't afford it. His head was injured and Kakashi's side was injured, among other things. It would be short-sighted to break off without a medic.

"You aren't returning, sir?"

Maen's eyes cut to Kakashi, who was watching the exchange. "No. There's still more to do," he said.

"Understood, sir."

Maen nodded to Doe. "You've got a spare mask on you?"

Wordlessly, she reached into the pack on her side and handed a mask to him.

The porcelain was cracked. The split ran from the temple to the middle of the cheek, but the blank mask was otherwise undamaged. It would work.

Maen raised his voice and asked, "Can you track him?"

There was no question of who he was talking to.

It was impossible to tell what Kakashi was thinking at that moment. Kakashi had been the most vocal in opposing this whole mission in the first place, from the first meeting to the night before when they'd met up to finalize plans. He wanted the kids out of the picture. They all did. But calls had to be made and if Kakashi was half as mad at Maen as Maen was at himself, then at least that anger could be put to good use.

"Yes," Kakashi said. "I can do it."

Maen held out the mask to Kakashi. "Then it's time to serve your village, Wolf."

"Don't be stupid," Jiraiya piped up, attention still locked on Sasuke. "That's suicide—"

Kakashi reached out and took the mask from Maen's hand. He slid it into place overtop of his own. "Yes, sir."

" _Don't_. We'll get him another time. Four people are already dead. Nobody else needs to get hurt on this fool's errand."

"And if we don't pursue this, then those four people died for nothing," Maen said. "I refuse to have gotten four people killed and leave it like this."

"You can't fight him."

"Who said we were going to?" Maen countered. "I want to track him. I want to know where he is right now. I want _something_ from this that the village can use to take him down."

When Maen looked at Jiraiya again, it was the first time he'd ever seen the age show on Jiraiya's face. "Stupid, impulsive brats… gonna be the death of me," Jiraiya muttered. He ran a hand down his face. "Fuck it. Fine. But if you come back with even a _single_ other casualty…"

This time, it was Kakashi who spoke up. "We won't."

Jiraiya sighed. While he had superiority over them in near every sense, he couldn't make commands over ANBU. With Kakashi taking up his mask again, even for this brief period, there was nothing Jiraiya could do; nobody could stop them now except for the Hokage.

So with clear annoyance, Jiraiya waved them off. "Then get out of here."

Kakashi summoned a couple of ninken and gave them a second to sniff around, and after a short conversation with them in too low of a voice for Maen to hear, was ready to go.

"Bear, Doe," Maen said. "You're coming with us."

Bear ambled over, hands in his pockets, relaxed in the way that only an ANBU veteran can be when faced with this kind of situation. "Yes, sir."

"Then let's get this show on the road." Maen gestured forward. "After you."

Kakashi gave a sharp nod. "Sir."

Maen couldn't help the wry smile that pulled at his lips, despite everything.

 _Just like old times._


	28. Chunin Exams: Part 8

.

* * *

 _"In three words, I can sum up everything_

 _I've learned about life: it goes on."_

* * *

I was grateful when I woke up.

Really, I was. Deep down. Somewhere.

Waking up again after getting body-checked by a Sannin was a minor miracle, the kind of story I could tell my grandkids one day. Orochimaru could have knocked me into my next life using one-sixtieth of his attention span but he didn't care enough to, I guess, and that was an act worth sending a fucking fruit basket for. And I would have considered doing just that if my attention wasn't already consumed by the dull ache that throbbed through every inch of my body.

It was overwhelming; I felt like a giant bruise. But I was alive to feel that, and that was what mattered.

Distantly, I could hear a monitor beeping—I was in the hospital. Not a surprise. If the sound didn't give it away, the distinctly sterile smell that invaded my nose would have done it. Light shone against my closed eyes, bright, cold, and two familiar signatures grated against my sense, pressing into my awareness with their own brand of brightness.

I forced my eyes open and took in the scene around me, blinking away the bleariness.

Naruto, half in his chair and half on my bed, his face inches away from my hand, was out cold, and Jiraiya sat in the chair beside him.

Jiraiya watched me as I gathered my bearings. "Welcome back to the land of the living," he said. "Took you long enough."

I tried to rub at my eyes and found that my arm refused to cooperate. Thankfully, I was already in a sitting position and didn't have to try and get there myself, because I got the sense that the rest of my body would prove to be as unresponsive if I tried.

"Were you watching me sleep?" I asked. The rough and scratchy sound of it elicited a wince from me. "That's kinda creepy, especially from you of all people."

"You've been awake for less than a minute and you're already giving me attitude?"

"I've got a brand to uphold," I muttered. "How's Sasuke?"

"That brat is doing just fine, thanks to you," he said. "Orochimaru tried to hit him with some nasty shit back there, but 'cause you managed to knock him outta the way, it didn't land properly. It was easy to fix once we got back to the village, so he's home free."

"That's… that's good."

Something went right on that mission. For the first time in what felt like ages, _something went right_.

The edges of my lips lifted up in a small, rare smile.

"Damn right it is. I get some credit for that, too." He shifted, uncrossing his arms to place his elbows on his knees and lean forward, and he asked, "How 'bout you? How're you feeling?"

That was a good question. I frowned. "Really, _really_ sore, and… kinda dazed?"

It was like how, after sitting for a really long time, you could get a head rush when you stood up again, except it didn't go away after a couple of seconds. My thoughts were stuck running through my head with a metaphorical blur filter over them.

He nods. "Yeah, that's pretty expected. You've been out for nearly a week."

"A week," I echoed. "That's…"

"A long time," he finished.

"Yeah."

Too long. Question upon question piled up in my head. Was Sasuke alright? Did he have the seal on him? What happened to Orochimaru?

My eyes widened. A week. The third part of the exam was supposed to happen the day after we got back from our mission, which would have been tomorrow. That meant the invasion, the whole situation with Gaara, the third dying. On instinct, my chakra sense reached out to feel for Gaara, whose chakra had been a constant black spot on my sense since he first arrived, drowning out the signature of everybody else around him.

Opening up my chakra sense was a bit of a nightmare with how many booming signatures were running around the hospital, but I dug in my heels and kept looking, ignoring the headache that formed right between my eyes.

Gaara's signature wasn't where it was supposed to be. That was true for a few people—where were Maen and Kakashi and was that _Karin's_ chakra signature in the tower where the foreign ninja were staying?—but his was the one that I focused on hunting for. I found it somewhere down, underground if I were to guess, and it was different.

 _Oh, for fuck's sake._

"… if we hadn't… _Hey_ , kid, are you even listening?"

I blinked. "What?"

"Were you spaced out on me that whole time?"

"Uh… yeah, I think so."

"Jeez."

"Sorry," I said.

I pushed away those thoughts for right now. I'd wait for a better opportunity.

He waved me off. "It's whatever. I was just saying, you're pretty lucky. There were medics who tagged along with us that could treat the worst of your injuries right away before you could start to heal funny or, you know, bleed out internally."

"Oh," I said. "Awesome."

"Right now, your back and neck are pretty messed up still. The most the medics here could do was put things as right as they could—those kinda injuries are too delicate for them to do all the work. Too many little things that can go wrong."

"What _exactly_ do you mean by 'pretty messed up'?"

"You should be able to fight again."

A weight settled over my chest at his words and all of the things they _didn't_ say.

"Your range of movement will probably take a hit," he said. "You might not be able to turn your neck around as much as you used to, and your back might be a bit stiffer."

"And that's…?"

"Best case scenario. Worst case, things don't heal properly and nerves get pinched or whatever, I don't know all this medical nonsense, and it starts to affect your ability to move your other extremities."

My throat went tight and a strangled noise escaped me. I hadn't thought much of how my body felt when I first woke up, but hearing that, my heart started hammering in my chest. "Wait a second—"

Jiraiya shook his head. "What you're feeling right now is intentional. The medics just did some weird chakra thing that put most of your body to sleep, for lack of a better term, to keep you from moving too much and causing more damage to yourself. It's not from the back injury."

That eased my panic to a certain extent, but the whole thing was a hard pill to swallow. It was one thing to lose mobility as a ninja and a whole other to lose mobility as a taijutsu specialist. My mobility was _everything_ ; my fighting style thrived on my ability to move faster than my opponent.

"Oh," I mumbled.

"Yeah, you really got yourself into a mess with this one. But like I said, what I gave you was the worst case scenario. The medics were pretty convinced that you'll be just fine in a few weeks, as long as you don't pull any more stupid stunts."

But then I remembered what I did to get here, what I prevented with this injury, and the rest of my panic ebbed away. Regardless of how it impacted me moving forward, I wouldn't regret what I did—this was worth it. I knew that somebody else was better off for what I did.

It surprised me, how effective that was at mollifying me.

I had time to figure out a way around the rest of the consequences. The Sasuke problem, though, was pretty well solved, and that was a victory that I wouldn't let myself forget about.

"No offence, but why're you here?" I asked.

"Putting 'no offence' in front of something doesn't keep it from being rude."

"If you don't tell me I'm gonna keep assuming that you just wanted to watch me sleep."

"I came here out of the goodness of my heart…"

I raised a single, unimpressed eyebrow.

"Tough crowd," he muttered. "Fine. This little idiot," he pointed to Naruto, "and I have an errand to run, but he refused to leave until you woke up, and they figured you'd either wake up today or tomorrow, so…" He shrugged.

 _What the fuck?_

I nodded, not trusting my voice, and turned my head away from him.

 _Wait, seriously, what the fuck?_

Maybe I hadn't actually woken up. Maybe this was all a dream.

To say I was confused would be an understatement. I felt like somebody gave me the pieces to three different puzzles and I was stuck trying to put together a picture that couldn't be made whole no matter what I tried.

Jiraiya and Naruto's errand was to get Tsunade, which meant that Hiruzen was dead. But how did Hiruzen die if the third part of the exam hadn't even happened yet? And why was Gaara in the village? Did any of this have to do with the odd changes in his signature?

How the _hell_ was this going to change Itachi and Kisame's attack on Naruto?

This seemed like the perfect opportunity to start my interrogation.

"So," I croaked. "Any reason why Lord Hokage doesn't seem to be in the village?"

"Probably because he's dead."

There it was. "I'm sorry."

"Me too, kid."

"What happened?"

"Sand invaded while we were out of the village. A bunch of theirs breached the walls, and all of their ninja inside the village started going on a rampage through the streets. But the main problem was their jinchuuriki, from what people have said. He basically blew up in the middle of the village." Jiraiya heaved a sigh, and the exhausted, haggard sound was something I could relate to. "The old man gave his life reseal the beast into its container, something strong enough that it couldn't break out again anytime soon."

That explained the difference in Gaara's signature—without Shukaku's chakra leaking, his signature was more subdued.

"And Konoha's keeping the jinchuuriki as a bargaining chip?" I guessed.

There was a pregnant silence. I turned back to look at Jiraiya and his eyes were sharp.

"How do you even know it's still here? Because you _shouldn't_ know that, by the by. That's definitely an S-rank secret."

"I can sense him?"

Jiraiya pinched the bridge of his nose. "You're a real pain in the ass, you know that?"

"Acquired skill."

" _Anyways_ , after their jinchuuriki went down, the rest of Sand's forces just fell apart, and the rest were cleaned up within a few hours." He grinned, but it was a grim, tight expression. "Shikaku's holding the administration together by sheer force of will, at this point, but overall Konoha came up pretty peachy. Low casualties, minimal damage to the infrastructure."

"Who's going to be the next hokage?"

There was a niggling curiosity as to who he would say. I doubted he'd outright tell me that he was going to look for Tsunade to be the next hokage, but I couldn't help but wonder who else was vying for the hat.

But part of me was also a little terrified that the difference in how things went down might have altered who the next hokage would be.

The last thing I needed was for all of this bullshit to lead to Danzo becoming hokage. I assumed that he must have chosen to set off the invasion early, for whatever reason. I couldn't even begin to guess at that. And as long as it didn't prove to be the key to Danzo's ascension to hokage, I couldn't even begin to care, either, since it seemed to have worked out pretty alright.

"Me, your teacher." For a split second, Jiraiya's expression darkened. Then it was gone and he was back to his cocky default face as if it'd never been there. "Some power-hungry assholes." Yep, that would be Danzo. "Oh, and Shikaku, but he laughed in their faces when the Council presented him as an option, so."

"That sounds like him."

"Speaking of," Jiraiya said. He stood up and groaned, arms stretching above his head, and a few things clicked into place. "Man, these old bones," he muttered. "But that reminded me that Shikaku wanted to know when you woke up, so I might as well go give him a heads up. While I do that, you and Naruto'll get a chance to chat before we head off."

Jiraiya reached down to cuff Naruto upside the head. Naruto jolted, somehow managing to fall between his chair and my bed. He hit the floor with a muted thud.

"Wha—" Naruto glared up at Jiraiya, rubbing at the back of his head. " _Hey_ , that hurt, you old perv! The hell was that for?"

Jiraiya waved a hand in my direction. The second he realized I was awake, Naruto's expression jumped from annoyed to thrilled and he grinned at me, scrambling to his feet. "Kaka! You're awake, hey—"

Naruto tried to launch himself at me but Jiraiya caught him by the back of his sweater and yanked him back into his chair.

"Ah, ah, ah," Jiraiya said. "Remember what the medics told you?"

"No physical contact," Naruto mumbled.

"And?"

"No yelling."

"Good. Right, then, I'll be back in a few minutes. Have fun kiddies!"

Jiraiya mussed Naruto's hair, smirked at me, and then disappeared in a puff of smoke.

Naruto wasted no time in pouncing right back towards me, though he did stop this time before getting too close. He was bouncing up and down in his chair with a goofy grin on his face. I could see a spot of drool on his chin from when he was asleep.

"Man… I've been waiting _forever_ for you to get up!"

And that didn't seem to be much of a exaggeration. Now that I looked, I could see the rumples in his clothes that indicated that he'd slept in them—probably more than once—and the bags under his eyes. He didn't smell, but I also might have just been so used to Naruto's stink that my nose didn't even register when he got stale anymore.

"Have you been eating properly?" I asked.

"Kaka, come on—"

"When was the last time you changed your clothes?"

"Yesterday!"

 _Lie._

"And have you been sleeping enough?"

Naruto groaned. He collapsed onto the bed, his head hidden in his arms. " _Come on_ ," he whined.

A laugh bubbled out of me and man, did it feel good, even through the pain that the movement caused me. When Naruto turned his head to look at me, he was grinning again.

"You missed so much," Naruto said. "There was this huge, like, fight that happened in the village while we were gone! It was all done when we got back but I talked to Kiba and he said that there were people fighting everywhere and all those Sand guys got their asses kicked!" His face fell. "I mean, uh… gramps died, which is, you know, sad." And the grin was back, but I saw the cracks in it this time. "But the Pervy Sage said that it's gonna be fine, so."

"I heard."

"Eh, you talked to him?"

"Yep. He told me that you were gonna go with him on an errand, right?" I asked.

"Oh! Yeah! He said that we need to go find somebody. Some friend of his, or whatever. I didn't wanna go but he said that his friend could help you get better, so I said I'd tag along. And! And he said he'd teach me some cool new tricks! Like how to summon _toads_!"

So that little branch was sprouting to life, as it was supposed to. Interesting, watching the universe correcting itself.

I wasn't sure whether it was comforting or worrying.

"Toads," I echoed. "That'll be fun."

Naruto made a face. "They're kinda gross, but I guess it's fine. He said they're real strong."

"I bet they are."

"Yeah." Naruto looked towards the window, obscuring his face from my line of sight. "I wanna… I wanna learn anything he can teach me. I wanna get stronger."

I watched, waited, not knowing what to say. The change in his voice didn't escape me, and I wished that I could see what was going on with his expression. Naruto was always an open book and I could tell that there was something to read in him, right then, but without a clear view of his face, I was missing half the words.

I hoped he would keep going. He didn't.

"Oh, man, I almost forgot!" he cried. He jumped in his seat, whatever he was saying before completely forgotten. "You missed the coolest thing!"

"Yeah?"

"A few days after we got back, there were these, like, two dudes who tried to attack the village," Naruto said. "One of them was blue—and he was a shark? Or something? I dunno. He was really ugly. And the other guy was Sasuke's _brother_!"

And there was the answer to the only question still lingering in the back of my mind.

"And they were all, like, scary. They just came outta nowhere and were gonna attack me, I think, but then the Pervy Sage came in, and Asuma and Kurenai and some other jonin were with him, and all of them like, demolished the two guys! Shark dude's dead. I dunno what happened to Sasuke's brother. But it was _awesome_!"

"Awesome," I mumbled. I didn't know how an encounter like that could be _awesome_. Terrifying or horrible came to mind, actually. "Sure."

"You know, Pervy Sage is weird. I know everybody says he's super strong, and stuff, but I thought he was kinda a phoney until I saw him kick their asses."

I snorted. "Did you tell him that?"

"What? No!" Naruto scratched the back of his head. "But I did, uh… ask him to teach me some cool stuff, after that. 'Cause I saw him do cool stuff."

Of course I would miss something like that. But as annoying as it was, that I missed such an important event, I was also glad because I probably would have shit myself if I'd been on the scene when Itachi and Kisame arrived.

"Did he say what he was gonna teach you?" I asked. "Outside of just the toads."

"I asked if he could teach me anything flashy, 'cause Kakashi never teaches us the really cool jutsu, and he said he might. If I'm not too much of a brat."

Was Jiraiya was already planning on taking Naruto away from the village, at this point? He had to know that Naruto wouldn't be able to manage toad summoning _and_ learn the Rasengan in only a few weeks.

The thought of Naruto leaving the village, of Team 7 being broken up, put a bittersweet taste in my mouth—I never thought this far ahead. And now, it's here.

"I'm sure he's got a ton he can teach you," I said, unable to keep all the bitter from my voice.

But Naruto didn't react to it.

"Yeah."

I cleared my throat. "Have you… seen Sasuke at all?"

"Oh, uh… a little. He was his usual assho—" He cut himself off without any intervention from me. "He seemed the same as usual."

"Does he know about—"

And that was the moment Jiraiya decided to pop back into the room.

"Alright, kiddies," he said, startling Naruto so bad that he fell from his chair. Again. "Time's up!"

"Hey, wait—!"

"No can do," Jiraiya said. "We've got a schedule to keep. You already dragged it out long enough, thank you very much."

Jiraiya walked over and hauled Naruto to his feet. He kept his grip even after Naruto was standing again, as if he didn't trust Naruto to not run off or something.

"It's fine, Naruto," I said. "I'll be here when you get back."

"Yes, you will," a new voice drawled from the doorway.

Shikaku slouched into the room looking like he would love to do nothing more than throw himself into the abyss. His hair was messier than usual in its ponytail and there was a distinctly ruffled aura to him, one that I had never seen him wear before.

"See?" Jiraiya said. "C'mon, kid. We gotta go."

Naruto huffed, arms crossed over his chest, but he didn't drag his feet. He let Jiraiya carry him out the window with a call that he'd be back soon, and that they'd be bringing somebody to make me better with them.

It was cute.

While that went on, Shikaku dropped himself in the closest chair and was already half asleep, his eyes closed and his arm laid over his eyes.

"So I hear you've been having fun," I said.

"And you heard this from who?"

"A little birdy told me. A, uh… bath peeping birdy."

Shikaku snorted. "Nice." He groaned and pulled himself upright, letting his arm fall limp in his lap. "Yeah. I've been having plenty of fun wrangling adult-sized toddlers."

"You can take a nap if you want," I said. "I won't tell anybody."

"Thanks, but I can't stay long."

"Sure you can. You're your own boss, now."

He grimaced. "Too soon, kid."

"Oh. Sorry."

He waved me off. "I just figured I'd check in, see how you're doing."

"I mean… I'm alive?"

"That that's even an _improvement_ is saying something," he said dryly. "Seriously? You _threw yourself_ in front of a Sannin?"

"It worked!"

"It should have killed you."

"I know," I said. "But it _worked_."

"But what if it _did_ kill you?"

"What if I hadn't, and I lost a teammate for it?"

That one stopped him short.

Shikaku sighed. "You three shouldn't have been there in the first place."

"Good to know I'm not the only one who thinks that."

" _All_ of us thought that," he said, levelling me with a stare. Under his breath, he added, "Well, most."

"Most?"

"That's all you get. S-rank levels of secrecy have to count for something."

"Fine," I said. "If you won't answer that, will you at least tell me where Maen and Kakashi are?"

"Out."

"Thank you for that wonderful observation."

"S-rank," Shikaku stressed.

"Jiraiya gave me all the juicy information," I said. "Why can't you be like him?"

"That list of reasons is longer than my arm, Kasumi."

"I feel like I've earned _something_ after all of the shit we went through."

"No, don't think so," he said.

Shikaku peered at his watch and muttered something that I didn't catch. "And it looks like my time's up."

"You weren't even here five minutes?"

"Like I said, toddler wrangling is a time-consuming pastime."

"That nap offer still stands."

He leaned forward and gave my hand a short squeeze. "Thanks, kid, but I gotta get going. I'll send word to Shikamaru that you're up, so he'll probably drop by tonight. If I can I'll come with him, but I probably won't be able to visit again until tomorrow."

"'Kay."

He hesitated, his eyes unfocused, locked on something over my shoulder. They clicked back into place after a second and he said, "It really is good to see you up, kid."

"Good to be up."

He wandered out of the room after that and I was left alone in blissful silence.

All things considered, I saw the results of this whole situation—no matter how unintentional most of it was—to be a net positive.

Hiruzen was dead, but as a result, Konoha had Shukaku at its disposal and it was contained in what would hopefully be a more mentally stable Gaara. Sasuke wasn't stuck with the curse seal, and without being whammied by Itachi's Tsukuyomi and the influence of Orochimaru, his chances of defecting were slim to none. As far as I was aware, nobody from the show was dead. Well, except for Kisame, by the sounds of it, but that was a good thing. Itachi was a bit of a question mark but with Jiraiya in the picture and no partner to back him up, I couldn't see him making any moves anytime soon. Danzo was doing Danzo things, but I couldn't see him getting anywhere with Shikaku on his case and Jiraiya already headed towards Tsunade.

There were no fires to be put out. There was no figurative guillotine hanging over my head, waiting to drop.

Everything was okay; every _body_ was okay.

For the first time in a long time, when I closed my eyes and went to sleep, no part of me was worried about what the future would hold.

* * *

Maen finally dropped by my hospital room four days after I first woke up.

I spent a lot of time sleeping off my injuries, which was fine by me. People dropped by, a few every day, some more surprising than others. Shikamaru was the first and most frequent. He brought Choji and Ino with him, and after the first visit, Ino had taken to stopping by each day to give me a fresh vase of flowers for my bedside. Team Gai even stopped by on the second day and swept through the room in a whirlwind of energy.

Actually, all of the Konoha 11 came by at some point or another. Sakura brought her team and introduced them all to me. Hinata came with Kiba and Shino, bringing flowers with her to add to Ino's vase. Sasuke didn't show his face, but I could feel him hovering near the hospital a few times, only to turn back around and head for the training grounds. I could appreciate the thought, at least.

It was nice. The warm, ooey gooey kind of nice, that clogged up your heart but in a _good way_.

Still, Maen was the person that I wanted most of all. Each time somebody knocked on the door, glad as I was that anybody bothered to take the time to visit, he was the one I kept hoping to see walk inside.

And when he did, he looked like crap.

Dirt and mud caked his ANBU uniform, which he hadn't bothered to take off, and he _smelled_ like he'd just come from a mission, stale BO and all. Stubble lined his jaw. He was tired, to the point that he didn't even bother to hide it as he walked into the room and settled down at my bedside.

But here he was.

The first thing I blurted out was, "I think I'm mad at you."

He barked out a laugh. "You think?"

"On a scale of one to ten, how involved were you in that plan?"

"Ten."

"Oh, yeah," I said, laughing. "I'm so fucking mad at you."

Now that I was given back some ability to move my arms, I was able to reach out and grab his hand, holding it as tight as I could. He squeezed back.

"That's fair," he said.

"Yeah, it is."

"But I'm mad at you, too."

"For _what_?"

He scoffed. "'For what' she asks after having _thrown herself_ at Orochimaru."

"Those're literally the exact words Shikaku used."

"I'm glad that I'm not the only one getting on your case for this, then." Maen shook his head. "That should have killed you."

I could see the anger in his eyes, the frustration, but beneath all of it, I knew the emotion that ran the deepest was fear. And at that, all of my anger seeped out of me. The little remark I had ready died on the tip of my tongue.

I nodded and mumbled, "I know."

He reached forward and smoothed my hair away from my face. "I'm an old man, you know that," he said. "You're gonna give me a heart attack one of these days."

"Trying not to."

"Yeah, I know."

He knew better than I did how dangerous this job was. He knew that I wasn't carelessly throwing myself head-first into dangerous situations and that sometimes these things were unavoidable, especially when the situation was far out of my control.

He knew that I wouldn't apologize for it, couldn't make promises to not let it happen again.

So he didn't ask any of that from me.

And like so many other things as of late, I was grateful for it.

"But I am still mad at you."

"Power to you, kiddo."

.

.

Shikaku leafed through the first few mission reports in his stack as he walked, the names on the corner of each registering as he passed them. Maen, Kakashi, Tojiro, Saya. All of their reports said about the same: they trailed Orochimaru up and west through Earth Country, through Waterfall, through Iron, and lost him somewhere in the Land of Rice. No further injuries, no enemy engagements.

But the rest of the reports from that mission weren't anywhere near as comforting. Four total were dead and their families could never know what happened to them. Maen and Kakashi were both injured, though treated intermittently while they trailed Orochimaru. And while the village gained a new lead on Orochimaru, it was costly. Too costly. Especially because the final cost could have been so much higher.

From the start, Shikaku thought that the mission was a ridiculous idea, and he never wavered.

If only he could have convinced Hiruzen.

Shikaku knocked on the office door in front of him and a voice beckoned him inside.

He strode towards the other side of the room, where a man sat behind his desk, his expression unreadable from behind the bandages strewn over the top half of his face.

"Here," Shikaku said. He dropped the stack of reports onto the desk. "I hope you're satisfied."

Danzo didn't even glance at the reports. "I am."

There were a million and one things Shikaku wanted to say. He held his tongue. Giving Danzo an inch was the same as asking him to take a mile, so with that, Shikaku turned on his heel and stalked out of the room.

Danzo may be satisfied, but Shikaku himself wouldn't be satisfied until somebody other than Danzo Shimura next donned the hat.

* * *

A/N: Woo! This is the last of the Chunin Exams arc. Man, I honestly didn't expect it to be this long, but here we are.

Heads up: a while back, I started going back and reworking/editing some of the earlier chapters. I wanted to do the whole fic but I really underestimated how much effort that would take, so I only ended up getting to chapter 11. The first... five were the most impacted, I think? The rest just saw quality of life changes. Chapter 3 was almost entirely rewritten. So, yeah.

As usual, thank you all for reading and for the continued support! I know I've gotten hella patchy with my updates but I genuinely want to start doing better with this fic. That anybody still sticks around feels like a minor miracle.

* * *

 _Chapter Questions_

1.) What change to canon are you most interested to see play out?

2.) Do you have any characters that you want to see more of moving forward?


	29. Recovery: Part 1

_._

* * *

 _Everyone thinks of changing the world,_

 _nobody thinks of changing themself._

* * *

Jiraiya watched Tsunade down another cup of sake, her fourth of the night.

They were situated in some near empty, hole in the wall bar. The entire place reeked of body odour and alcohol with a spritz of festering urine to round out the palate, and the table looked like it hadn't been cleaned in at least two weeks.

But it was for the best. The fewer people around, the better. This wasn't the kind of conversation that he wanted anybody to overhear, not with the village in political disarray.

The three other people scattered around the room were all civilians. It was unlikely they were listening or even knew _who_ he and Tsunade were. The town far away enough from Konoha that the civilians knew next to nothing about ninja, beyond the basic "horrifying murderer people who go bump in the night" shtick. But he knew better than anybody how valuable a perceived non-threat like civilians could be for spying in on conversations, how dangerous anybody could be, so Jiraiya had thrown down a few privacy seals for peace of mind.

Tsunade scoffed at him. "If you want a different answer from me then say something to change my mind," she said, wiping her mouth with her arm. "Spouting the same crap you've been peddling for the last couple of days isn't going to cut it, Jiraiya."

"This 'crap' as you're calling it is just the facts," he said dryly. "The village is hurting for Hokage candidates. You're the best one there is."

"Oh, please. You or Shimura are perfectly capable of leading that village. If I never set another foot in that place, it'll be too soon."

"You don't mean that."

Tsunade puckered her lips and scrunched her nose like she smelt something foul. Which, given their surroundings, might very well have been the case. "Does it matter? You have my answer. I'm not moving on this."

"You know I can't take the hat," Jiraiya said. "That's not me. I'm useful out in the field, gathering intel, not sitting behind a desk."

"Shimura."

"No."

"He's the one that Hiruzen would have wanted to go after him, I can guarantee it," she said. "Which isn't a ringing endorsement, realistically, but it's still better than nothing."

"Yeah, and that's half the problem."

Tsunade cocked an eyebrow.

Jiraiya sighed. He reached into his jacket and pulled out a stack of papers from one of the bottomless pockets lining the inside of it. He dropped them onto the table, leaned back in his chair, and scowled at Tsunade.

"What is that?" Tsunade asked.

Jiraiya gestured at it with an overdone, sarcastic flourish.

Tsunade rolled her eyes and grabbed the papers. She started to leaf through them, and her expression went from annoyed to surprised to amused, which wasn't what Jiraiya hoped for but was about what he expected.

"Well, I'll be damned," Tsunade mused. "Looks like the old slimeball was trying to slip out of his leash, huh?"

"More than that," Jiraiya said, "Shikaku Nara thinks he might have had a hand in orchestrating the invasion."

Tsunade paused, her gaze darting up from the papers for a split second, her hand freezing mid page turn, and snapped back into reading. "Is that so?"

Jiraiya made an annoyed noise in the back of his throat. "Would I say it if it wasn't?"

"Then how is he still a candidate?"

"We have zero proof that he _actually_ had anything to do with it. There's a lot of shit that looks really suspicious, but nothing definitive." Jiraiya scratched at the stubble starting to poke through on his chin, his lips curling downwards. "Not to mention that he's got the Daimyo and the Council vouching for him."

Tsunade frowned and dropped the papers. She considered Jiraiya, and he wondered what kind of gears were turning in her head.

"I'm not going to sit here and act like orchestrating Hiruzen's death isn't treason in the best of lights," Tsunade said, leaning her elbows on the table and steepling her fingers together. Her gaze was as hard as the steel Jiraiya had once seen her crush in her fist like it was made of putty. "But you have to admit, Danzo might make a half-decent Hokage."

The worst part was that she was right.

Being Hokage wasn't all sunshine and rainbows. You had to be ready to order your soldiers to their deaths, mark targets for hits, and wade your way through the monstrous ocean waves of the political world like you're in the kiddy pool. Danzo could do it all, of that Jiraiya had no doubt.

But that wasn't _all_ being a Hokage entailed, and that was where Jiraiya knew Danzo would fail the village. Danzo saw weakness in what Jiraiya knew was Konoha's biggest strength—the fact that she at least pretended to see her ninja as more than mere faceless soldiers. That was the spirit under which the village was founded.

"Call me a bleeding heart optimist, but I don't think I want to live in a Konoha where the Will of Fire has all burned out," Jiraiya said. "Danzo would dump water all over it and freeze the remains to harden them, and you know that."

Tsunade didn't soften.

Jiraiya gave her a grim smile. "I doubt Dan or Nawaki would approve of him, either; Danzo's not the kind of Hokage who would care about allocating one medic-nin to all four-man squads."

It was a low blow, even for him, but he couldn't bring himself to feel bad about it. If twisting the knife was what got Tsunade to finally crack, so be it.

Her expression closed off, which Jiraiya knew would happen. She wasn't the type to break for somebody else. She had to come to the decision herself, in her own time—all Jiraiya had to do was prime her to make the choice.

Jiraiya swept up the documents and shoved them back inside of his coat. His privacy seals dropped. With a grunt, he hauled himself to his feet and stared down at Tsunade.

She glared at him coldly, her jaw set. Their conversation was over for the night. Tomorrow night, maybe, he'd give it another shot. But he had one more thing he needed to say, one last twist of the knife.

"Really, seriously think about this," he said. "You have the chance to do what both of them _wanted_ to do, right at your fingertips. You're the one who has to sleep at night if you waste it."

He walked out before she could reach across the table and punch him.

* * *

I yawned, raising a hand to cover my mouth, and tilted my head back to stare out the open window of the hospital room with something of a tired yearning. A stray handful of bright red and white birds fluttered across the sky's blue expanse, pops of colour on an otherwise clear canvas. I'd insisted that the window be kept open so I could hear the sounds of people going about their days without a care and feel the crisp breeze wash over my skin every now and again. I needed something to bring me a reprieve from the stale air of the room.

I was on day six of my hospital stay and slowly losing my mind.

In one second, I was running mental circles trying to figure out the various problems that had presented themselves thus far. The whole Hokage situation was right up there at the top of my mind, seconded by the Gaara situation. Token considerations were given to what Sasuke was up to and why in the fuck Karin was in the village, still firmly stationed in the building where the foreign ninja were staying during the exams, vacant except for her. All fun things, all literally impossible for me to resolve and puzzle out on my own.

The Hokage situation, dire as it was, was completely out of my hands. Worrying about it was a waste of energy—what was going to happen was going to happen, though I didn't _really_ want to imagine what this world would look like if Tsunade's hands weren't the ones to shape it. But I ended up pushing it out of my mind for now, letting it simmer until Jiraiya returned and I had something to go on.

The Gaara situation was in about the same kind of boat. Like Karin, his signature had been in the exact same location since I woke up. Every once in a while, some other signatures would wander over to join him—one was a Yamanaka, I was certain because I knew the distinctive feel of their chakra, though the other signatures were foreign to me. But it was always the same three, keeping him company down there doing who knows what.

And Sasuke? Well, Sasuke. Sasuke was an interesting one. When I gave myself a few precious moments of time with my chakra sense wide open, I could feel Sasuke's signature flaring in a way that signalled chakra exertion. Which was not a surprise. Sasuke was the type to train himself into a hole, so of course he was training. Except that, more than once, I felt _another_ familiar signature in his direct vicinity— _Gai_. Gai and Sasuke seemed to be training together. The how and the why were so far beyond me that after first realizing it, I refused to pick that thought up again because I knew it'd drive me insane.

Karin, too, was a bit of a pointless afterthought. There was nothing interesting there. With Gaara, there was the intrigue of who else was around him, what they might be doing, why his signature seems to be so deep underground, muffled by layers of chakra-tinted earth. The whole Sasuke and Gai situation spoke for itself. But with Karin, there was nothing there except her mere presence. Which raised questions of its own. How did she live through the exam? Why was she still in the village? But there wasn't anything particularly monumental about her presence, not in the way everything else was, so I let it go.

All of it had to be let go. I was stuck standing beside the poker table, watching as the cards were laid out and everybody else placed their bets and made their moves while I had no chair to take. Worse was realizing that with how different everything seemed to be going, even if I could take a seat I might not have had much money left to bet with.

Frowning, I put my attention back on the book in my lap. Off to my left, Shikamaru stretched a little in his position strewn sideways on the chair, then went limp again. He'd been reading, too, but he conked out half an hour prior, his book laid out over his face.

He was the one who kept supplying me with books to try and ward off the boredom. He and Ino would drop by at the same time, though Ino tended to bring in the flowers and dip out while Shikamaru hung around for a while longer. I appreciated the company since there was literally nothing else for me to do here other than visit with people and read. I couldn't even people watch—the hospital was as busy as ever, too busy for me to pick out individual signatures, much less follow them around for any amount of time.

So my life had become a continuous journey of laying in bed, reading, and hoping that people would come and distract me from my ever churning thoughts for a little while.

I scoffed. It was no wonder so many ninja had a habit of skipping out of the hospital early.

"What's so funny?" Shikamaru asked, lifting up the side of the book so that he could look at me.

"My life, the universe, your face," I answered. "Take your pick."

"None of the above."

I made a buzzer sound. "Not an option."

Shikamaru snorted. His hand dropped and the book flopped back down over his eyes. Knowing him, he was back asleep in seconds. He was one of those annoying people that could sleep at the drop of the hat—better known as the literal worst kind of people.

I tried to read again. I stared down at the words on the page and willed myself to do more than skim. And I failed, miserably.

Something about being aware of boredom makes it so much more difficult to occupy yourself, in the same way that watching the seconds tick by on a clock makes it feel like time is stretching beyond the bounds of reality. And the book, some stupid guilty pleasure civilian romance novel, was the slowest clock I'd ever had the displeasure of watching.

Without looking, I reached over to the bedside table and grabbed one of the random objects sitting on top—the rough plastic of a pen scratched my fingertips. I rolled it around in my palm.

I was too petty to suffer alone in my boredom.

I could only move my arm from the elbow down, but I figured that would be enough. All I needed to do was hit Shikamaru in the head. That would wake him up again.

When I turned to throw it, however, I found Shikamaru was staring at me, his head hung over the armest. The book was now held in one of his hands while the other rested on his chest, rising up and dipping down in time with his breathing.

His eyes were clouded in a way that I couldn't quite read, and not for the first time in the last few days since he started visiting me. I couldn't figure out what it meant.

"What?" I asked.

Shikamaru blinked. The look passed.

He stretched out again like a cat in a particularly pleasant sunspot and yawned, setting the book back on his face. "Nothing," he said. "Just zoned out."

Nothing my ass.

Clearly, something wasn't right and hadn't been right since he started visiting me. And of course, there was the clear line to be drawn between that look and the fact that our visits were taking place in a hospital. There was something there. I understood why—if the situations were reversed, I would be feeling some type of way, too.

And I had every intention of pressing him on that answer until I felt something dangerous and horrifying brush against my chakra sense that made my voice wither in my throat, strangled out of me. That signature, cold and sharp, right outside of my room.

I swung my gaze around to look at the door as it opened and Kabuto fucking Yakushi walked in.

His silver hair was pulled up into a bun with a pair of senbon stuck through them, the polished metal glistening in the sunlight. His usual outfit was gone. In its place, he wore a dark green t-shirt and black cargo pants. And the pièce de résistance: a Konoha forehead protector sitting around his neck like a scarf.

Kabuto smiled at me. I was too busy choking on my own spit to smile back.

There was a shift in Kabuto's signature—it was miniscule, dampened by the fact that he was already holding his signature in an impressively tight grip, but unmistakable. I didn't know what it meant, but my gut told me it probably wasn't anything good.

That was the moment where I knew that I had dug my own grave.

I tried to recover and school my expression into something more neutral than its current dumbfounded horror, but wearing a mask had never been one of my strengths. The attempt was slow and clumsy and there was no way in hell that Kabuto bought it for even a second.

"Ah," he said, pausing a couple of steps into the room. "Am I interrupting something?"

"It's fine," I managed.

Kabuto's gaze slithered between me and Shikamaru like a predator assessing its prey.

I saw Shikamaru stir in the corner of my eye. He sat up, the book falling down onto his lap, and frowned at me.

I didn't meet his gaze. I refused to look away from Kabuto. After all, one of the most important things they teach you in the Academy is to never turn your back to an enemy.

A thousand different questions swarmed my mind at once, all of which struggled for supremacy over the chorus of screaming that was already overloading my brain. What was Kabuto still doing here, and why was he in the hospital? How come he hadn't gone back to regroup with Orochimaru?

And why was he in _my_ hospital room, of all places?

"Good, good." Kabuto pulled the clipboard out from underneath his arm and tapped his pen against the paper. "I just need to do a quick check-up, won't take long at all."

Shikamaru, likely picking up on my unfortunate initial reaction, had a wary look to him, his eyes narrowed and his shoulders tight. "You don't look like the usual medic."

Kabuto laughed sheepishly. "Right, yeah. Sorry, I should probably introduce myself—my name's Kabuto Yakushi. Yori Amane is occupied right now with other patients, so I was reassigned to this case," he answered. "There was an influx of patients last night. A bad mission, I think. But it means that some of the better medics were pulled off of their current cases and reassigned where their skills were needed."

"Is Yori going to be back?" I asked, hoping this would be a one-time thing.

"It's unlikely," Kabuto said. "All of the patients who came in last night were in critical condition and aren't likely to be recovered for at least three weeks, by which point we expect you'll be discharged."

And thus, Kabuto had conveniently been reassigned to my case. That answered one question, at least.

But why?

I had a connection to Orochimaru, to an extent. In so far as nearly being killed by somebody can be counted as a connection. That was the only logical reason I could see for Kabuto having any kind of interest in me, and I assumed he did. There was _no chance_ that he was here by coincidence. You'd have to be naive to think that ninja, in general, did anything by coincidence, least of all somebody like Kabuto.

All that I knew was that a week ago, Orochimaru had been in northern Land of Wind. Was he under orders from Orochimaru? I tried to do the math in my head while also keeping track of Kabuto as he got himself settled in the room, making a show of reading the clipboard at the end of my bed. At full speed for jonin, the trip from where we had been in Wind to Sound was a solid three days, and the trip between the Sound and Konoha was a day, maybe a day and a half. From what I had been told, it took Jiraiya, Sasuke, Naruto, and I three days to get back to the village after the Orochimaru encounter. So, theoretically, if Orochimaru went straight back to Sound, he would have gotten there around the time we got back to the village. If he got back and took some time to strategize—say, a day—and then relayed orders to Kabuto, Kabuto would have had _about_ three or four days to act on those orders.

I cleared my throat and forced down the bitter taste in my mouth. "So," I said, trying to keep my voice casual and conversational. "How long have you been a medic?"

"I'm still pretty new," he answered. He wheeled the chair over so that he was right beside me in all of his slimy glory. "I started in the hospital about a month ago." He tapped at his chin. "A month and a week? Something like that. I was offered a position after they saw some of my handiwork, and I decided to take it."

Alarm bells blared in my head.

About a month and a week ago would have been right around when the second part of the exam ended for him. Meaning that his presence in the hospital, overall, wasn't a direct result of the whole Orochimaru situation. Why the hell would he have taken the position _then_?

And worse, I didn't see anything I could do other than roll with the situation, even if I would rather toss myself over a ravine.

It wasn't like I could oust Kabuto as a spy. What would I say? _Hey, so, I know this dude has technically done nothing wrong and I have zero proof that he's a spy, but his chakra signature is super creepy and I think he's definitely up to some shady shit, so you should kill him._

Yeah. That would go over well.

The sound of Kabuto pushing down the bars on either side of the bed startled me, and my head jerked around to watch him.

Kabuto nodded. "Ah, sorry! Didn't mean to startle you," he said. I doubted that. "I'm all ready to start the examination, but I just need your friend to leave while we conduct it."

"Why?" Shikamaru asked, his eyes narrowing.

"It's just hospital regulations," Kabuto said. "It's for patient confidentiality, and all of that."

"At the discretion of the patient. I only have to leave if she wants me to."

Kabuto shrugged and turned to me, coming off as annoyingly harmless. "It's up to you."

I bit the inside of my cheek to stave off an incredulous laugh. Kabuto was an S-rank threat of questionable sanity, and being alone with him when I couldn't even try to run away if things went sour sounded like the type of nightmare a Tsukuyomi would dredge up.

"Shikamaru can stay," I said.

The check-up was quick and routine. Alongside a steady stream of innocuous small talk, Kabuto checked my vitals, examined the mending of the joints and soft tissues in my back, and made sure that I wasn't in any pain from the injuries. And at the end, he gave me an estimate of how much longer he thought I would take to heal—two and a half weeks, if all went well.

Kabuto sat in one of the chairs near the window and jotted something down on the clipboard after that, humming to himself. Then he looked up and clicked the pen shut. "Alrighty," he said. "Any questions for me?"

"None," I said.

 _Get the fuck out of my room._

"Then it looks like we're done here!"

I tried for a smile, though it probably looked more like a grimace. "Great, thanks."

"You're welcome," he said, walking towards the door. "I'll be back tomorrow morning!"

He left my room with a smile and a little wave over his shoulder.

I closed my eyes and for a handful of seconds, as long as I could without giving myself a massive headache, I followed his signature float away, off towards the other side of the hospital. I heaved out a breath.

"So," Shikamaru drawled. "You know him?"

"I've seen him around the village before, but I've never met him."

"Uh huh."

"I'm not lying."

"I know you're not, but I don't know why you were so freaked out by him."

I cracked one eye open to look at him in the corner of my eye. He wasn't looking at me, though—he had his eyes shut and his fingers pressed together into his 'thinking pose'.

"Something, something, emotional trauma, something."

Shikamaru scoffed.

It was, again, another situation where coming clean was literally not an option. But I had to say something. My reaction to Kabuto was undeniable, and that was my own fault.

"It was his chakra signature," I said, settling on a half-truth. "Everybody's signature has a feeling to it. It's influenced by their yin chakra, which—"

"Is a reflection of the soul and means that the feeling of their signature is tied into their personality," he said. "Right?"

"Exactly."

"And?"

"And I don't like how his feels. I noticed it before, back during the second part of the Chunin Exams, but it…" I frowned. "It weirds me out."

"You think he's bad news?"

"I don't know," I said honestly. "I mean, he's working as a medic, so like, probably not. I'm just being paranoid, I think."

"Uh huh."

I groaned. "Do me a favour and pretend this never happened, okay?"

He broke from his pose and stretched his arms above his head. "Sure."

"I mean it."

"Yeah, yeah." Shikamaru yawned. He settled himself back down over the arms of the chair and put the book over his face. His voice was muffled as he muttered, "How troublesome."

" _Shikamaru_."

He waved his hand. "You're so cranky today," he said. "I'll drop it."

I rolled my eyes and ignored the unspoken 'for now'. He'd leave it be, but he wouldn't forget. I'd take it; I had more important things to worry about.

Kabuto was going to be coming back tomorrow, and the day after that, and the day after that, until I was discharged. He had a vested interest in me, for some reason. I couldn't fathom why. And while I doubted my little display helped matters, given that he had put himself in a position to see me every single day over the course of the next couple of weeks or so before ever meeting me, he had walked in with some kind of suspicions towards me.

I hoped that it was a fleeting interest, that once he had _whatever_ he wanted from me, he'd move on.

Anything else? Well, that could get problematic.

* * *

"He won't do it."

"Kid's got another few days, don't count him out just yet."

"And he's only halfway to getting it right. He'll never do it by the end of the week."

Jiraiya cocked his head, grinning. "This is why you're such a piss poor gambler—poor luck aside, you've no idea how to make a good bet."

Tsunade scoffed. She took another swig from the sake bottle in her hand and set it back down on the grass. "Not a chance. This is the best bet I've made in years."

Naruto, who had been laying on the ground, exhausted, dragged himself back to his feet with a groan and a few swear words. He immediately went back to work.

"I'll give him one thing, though," she murmured. "He's damn resilient."

Jiraiya shrugged and snagged the sake bottle for himself. "Yeah, well. I gave the kid some additional motivation."

He managed to get a couple of sips before Tsunade snatched it back.

"Tell me you didn't promise to show him porn, or something."

"What? No." Jiraiya rolled his eyes. "Kid can see that for free, for all I care."

"You're disgusting."

"Proudly."

Tsunade narrowed her eyes. "So, what did you do?"

"Remember that run-in I told you about, with Orochimaru a few weeks ago?"

"Of course I do, you idiot."

Jiraiya waved his hand, saying, "Yeah, whatever." He grinned. "You see, the kid's teammate ended up getting hurt to save the Uchiha during that mission. She's been in the hospital for a while, a taijutsu specialist with a severe back and neck injury. Not too great. The medics think they can probably get her patched up, but there's bound to be some complications once it all heals up. Naruto knows this."

Tsunade frowned, and he knew she was starting to pick up on where he was going.

"I told him that if he can prove that he's cut out to be Hokage, it might be enough to get you to change your mind about taking up the hat. And if you change your mind and come back to the village, then you'll be able to heal up his little friend far better than any of our current medics can."

"Misleading him like that is cruel, even for you."

Jiraiya shrugged her comment off. "I made him no promises. Just told him there was a chance," Jiraiya said. "And from what I know about this kid, well. He's made do on less than a chance in other situations. Besides, it's not a _complete_ lie. You're literally the best healer in the world. By default, if you did heal her, you'd do better than anybody we got right now."

He tried to gauge her reaction. She watched Naruto through weary eyes as he got a little further than his last attempt, managing to get the wobbly ball of chakra to spin a few rotations before it fizzled out.

Jiraiya was pretty confident that he knew what she saw, and he hedged a bet on it.

"He reminds me a lot of Nawaki."

This time, Tsunade didn't snap at him or grow angry. She just kept staring. The only reason he knew she registered his words was from the way her grip on the sake bottle tightened, a handful of hairline fractures appearing on its surface.

"A lot of this new generation do, in their own way," Jiraiya said, forging on. "Each striving to protect each other and the village as well as they can. They'll be the best generation the village's produced so far."

"And you truly think that this brat will be the strongest of them? Able to lead them one day?"

"With every fibre of my being."

Tsunade gave a single, slow nod.

He hadn't won her over yet. But he could see her starting to open up. Now he had to hope he was right—that the added motivation would be enough to push Naruto to succeed, and that the sight would be enough to get Tsunade to his side.

* * *

On the last day, late in the evening, Naruto stood out in the expansive grassy field, a fully formed Rasengan hovering in his hand. He was grinning like a fool.

Jiraiya had on a grin of his own that he aimed towards Tsunade. She stood by with her arms crossed over her chest, visibly annoyed. But Jiraiya thought it was mostly a front. She was too proud to concede on the outside, even if internally she had accepted the loss for what it was.

"Go on," Jiraiya said, jerking his head towards one of the nearby trees. "If it can take that tree out, I'll count it."

"Yeah, yeah!" Naruto said. "I'm on it!"

And Naruto ran headlong towards the tree. At the last second, he shoved his arm forward and plunged the Rasengan into the tree's trunk. Bark and wood flew everywhere. A decent chunk of the tree was burned away by the Rasengan, and what was left was too weak to hold up the rest of the tree's weight. With a mighty groan, the remnants of the tree toppled over. The force of it sent out a gust of wind that knocked Jiraiya's coat and hair around.

Naruto laughed, pumped one of his fists in the air, and passed out.

Tsunade caught him before he hit the ground.

"Told you," Jiraiya said. He wandered over, his hands shoved in his pants pockets. "Kid's a force of nature when he's been motivated properly."

Gently, Tsunade eased Naruto down onto the grass. She sighed. "I lost to a damn brat."

"Just your luck," Jiraiya said.

She pulled the necklace off of her neck and laid it out around Naruto's. "Yeah," she said, staring down at Naruto. "So it is."

* * *

I was asleep when Naruto came back from his adventure.

 _Was_ being the keyword because the first thing he did upon returning was barge into my room and wake me up.

"Hey, hey!" he said. "Kaka!"

I groaned, cutting my eyes towards the window—the sun was barely peeking up above the horizon, illuminating the brilliant orange hues of dawn. The clock on my bedside table read 5:42 in bold blue numbers.

"Hi, Naruto," I mumbled. I rubbed at my eyes. "Why are you waking me up at the asscrack of dawn? And how did you get in here?"

The look on his face was comical. He froze. Slowly, he turned towards the window, then looked at the clock, and he seemed to realize what he'd done.

"Sorry!" he said, laughing nervously. "I, uh… snuck in through the roof access thingy. I'm just really, really excited! You'll never guess what happened!"

The new necklace he had on was a pretty strong indication that things had gone off without a hitch, despite the lack of interference by Orochimaru. Which was about the best result I could have hoped for.

Over a yawn, I said, "You learned a cool technique and brought back the new Hokage."

Naruto gaped. "What? Hey! How'd ya know that?"

"I'm psychic."

That, of course, garnered no reaction. Naruto bounded over to the chair by my bed. "Whatever," he said. "I'm still gonna tell you what happened!"

He told me about leaving the village, starting to learn the Rasengan on the road, finding Tsunade, and taking her bet. It was all pretty par for the course, which made me wonder how exactly things had ended the way they did. And then Naruto got to a conversation he and Jiraiya had the night Naruto made the bet.

"And I mean, I didn't really know who the old woman was," Naruto said. "Her name was kinda familiar, but… yeah. So, so, I didn't even know she was a medic! And then Jiraiya said that if I won the bet and showed her that I'm gonna be Hokage one day, she'd change her mind and be Hokage! And that if she came back to the village to be Hokage, she could heal you!"

Naruto gave me a blinding grin. "And, yeah. After that I knew I really, really, really had to win. I wasn't able to help you when you got hurt, so I made sure that I could help you get better, yeah!"

And damn it if that didn't get me a little choked up.

I cleared my throat and grabbed Naruto's hand, giving it a squeeze. "Thank you, Naruto."

He waved it off and went on with his story as if that were nothing but a footnote for him. He told me about how long he worked, all the ways he thought to improve himself, and how, on the very last day, at the very last minute, he managed to master the Rasengan and took out a tree with it. As he told that part, his hand reached up and grasped the necklace.

It took me a second to wrap my head around the outcome.

In the show, Naruto had managed to pull through at the very last minute and form the Rasengan to save Tsunade from Kabuto. But this time? That last little bit was covered because Naruto wanted to help _me_.

That was just how Naruto was.

Brash, annoying, reckless. They were all things that could be used to describe him. But he was also the somebody that helped others with as little thought as breathing. It scared me, sometimes, that somebody with that amount of innate kindness in them existed in a world like this, after all the shit he'd been through. Because for anybody who didn't have the same raw power as Naruto did locked up in the seal in his belly, printed into his genes by his parents, that kindness would be a death sentence.

I still thought that one day it might be his. I only hoped I was wrong. Because honestly? It didn't feel like it was my place to try and show him otherwise, anymore.

.

.

Tsunade and Shizune dropped by at a more humane hour that morning.

Naruto was asleep beside me, snoring. His head was tipped back and a line of drool leaked out from the corner of his mouth. It was kinda gross but in a cute way, like watching a golden retriever puppy fart, or something.

From the look on Tsunade's face when she walked in, she didn't feel the same way. She regarded Naruto with a look of mild disgust.

Shizune laughed.

Tsunade shook her head and sighed, turning her attention to me. "Hello," she said. "You're Kasumi Kurosawa, I presume?"

"The one and only," I said.

"I'm Tsunade Senju." She gestured to Shizune. "This is my apprentice, Shizune."

Shizune bowed, saying, "Nice to meet you."

I ducked my head, which was as close as I could get to a bow.

Getting down to business, Shizune reached over and busied herself with examining the chart at the end of my bed.

"Since the brat's here, I'm guessing he's filled you in and you can guess why I'm here," Tsunade said.

"You're going to get me out of this hospital room?"

"Hopefully."

Tsunade peeked over Shizune's shoulder, her eyes scanning the papers. Then she approached me and her hands lit up with green chakra. "How are you feeling?"

Her hands started to wander around the point where my neck and back met.

I shrugged. "I'm alright."

"No immediate pain?"

"Not really. They've been keeping it contained with some kind of medical jutsu, so I can't feel much of anything," I said. "I've just got a bit of stiffness that I can feel."

"That's a good sign," Tsunade said. "Whoever's been tending to you has gone a good job—a lot of the legwork has already been done. Kabuto Yakushi was the medic who's been treating you recently, right?"

Before I could stifle it, my lips turned down in a scowl.

She raised an eyebrow at that.

Thankfully, Shizune caught her attention before anything could come of the moment. "Lady Tsunade," she said, motioning Tsunade over.

Tsunade stared at me for another long second before she obliged, taking up her position behind Shizune's shoulder once again.

Shizune pointed her finger at the papers and Tsunade frowned, muttering something I couldn't hear. They had a quiet conversation. That was the thing about ninja—enhanced senses meant that they could hold conversations in hushed tones that were literally impossible for any mere mortal to hear.

Thankfully, I had a few tricks up my sleeve, as well. I put a tiny bit of chakra into my ears to listen in. As a cover, I grabbed one of the pens on my bed stand and started doodling on Naruto's hand.

"... could be finicky," Shizune said. "Four of her upper thoracic vertebrae are still damaged. T1, T3, T4, and T6. But it says that the tears in the column were repaired and that work has been holding up, so I'm not worried about any of the discs rupturing. It should be easy enough to repair what damage is left in that respect." Shizune bit her lip. "What I'm worried are about the facet joints up in her thoracic," she pointed at something on the page, then drew her finger downwards, "and down in her lumbar region. The damage seems to have been pretty bad on a few of them, especially the lumbar."

Shizune flipped through a few of the pages. "They think the thoracic damage was from Orochimaru, and the lumbar from when she hit a rock on the way down that stopped her momentum—the fact that her entire spine wasn't destroyed is a miracle."

The line I was drawing jerked into a squiggle at that.

Sure, I had heard it was bad. I spent the first three days of consciousness having everybody tell me how stupid what I did was, how easily I could have died, vague allusions to how messed up my back was, all of that. But nobody had actually told me what the damage specifically was, not even the medics.

"Looks like it was close, though," Tsunade muttered. She blinked. "Oh, huh."

"What?"

"Nothing important, just… she's got six vertebrae in the lumbar. That's pretty unusual." Tsunade hummed. She moved back a few pages and tapped her finger on the sheet. "The facets have been their biggest concern, haven't they? That's the kicker for her mobility, especially because the worst of it is in the lumbar. If the fractures in those are repaired improperly—or heal wrong on their own naturally—she'll have a hard time rotating her upper body and moving her lower body properly for fighting. Not to mention that she'd be severely limited in how much weight her body is capable of carrying."

"Exactly. How do I go about mending the fractures without overdoing it and accidentally fusing the joint together? One mistake and the joint loses its flexibility, and that's not the kind of mistake that can be undone."

Another line went awry. The rose I was drawing looked a bit like somebody had stepped on it.

"You won't," Tsunade said. "I will."

Shizune's eyes widened. "Are you sure?"

"Of course I'm sure."

"But what about—"

"I can treat this externally. No surgery needed, so no blood," Tsunade said dryly. "I'll be fine, if a bit rusty."

Interesting.

So, Tsunade got to the village and took the hat, but unlike in the show, she hadn't yet lost her fear of blood.

"Right," Shizune said. "Sorry, Lady Tsunade."

Tsunade waved her off. Instead, she side-eyed me. "You got any comments, Kurosawa?"

 _Busted_.

I licked my lips and asked, "What are the chances of something going wrong?"

"If I heal it? Realistically, I'd say about ten-to-fifteen percent."

"And how about if it's left to heal properly?"

She took a second. "With about seven damaged vertebrae and ten facet joints that have fractures in them? Among other small areas of damage? I'd say you've got a seventy percent chance that _something_ is going to have issues healing."

I frowned.

"Let me put it like this," Tsunade said. "If I go through with the procedure, there's a one in ten chance of something going wrong. And if something goes wrong, it might be more a more severe issue than if something healed wrong naturally." She held up a finger. "But, if you leave it and hope that it heals well on its own with a bit of medical chakra encouragement, there's a much higher chance of having multiple small issues that compound into something more severe.

"You should consider, too, what that damage will actually look like. If something in your lumbar gets severely messed up, you're looking at a hit to both your mobility and your ability to carry heavy objects." Tsunade eyed me, her face neutral. "Depending on how everything decides to heal, something going wrong could limit what kind of movements you can do in regards to taijutsu, what weapons you can carry, and your ability to train with weights, if it doesn't outright eliminate them. If something in the thoracic goes wrong, you're more likely to experience issues with your ribs, specifically the ones that aren't linked up to your mid-chest bone. That can be as simple as giving you a cough sometimes or shortening your breath, but it can also make blows to your chest far more severe than they would be. The whole stability of that area can be compromised."

It was a lot to take in.

I stared, unable to find my words.

"You don't have to do it today," Shizune said. "You can think about it, talk to your parents."

I winced at that.

"I'm sure they'll have good advice for you!" she said, apparently misreading the wince.

With the earnestness in how she said it, I didn't have the heart to correct her.

Tsunade shrugged. "Take a few days to sleep on it. It's not like I'm going anywhere."

Should I sleep on it? Maybe. Should I talk to Shikaku about it? Also maybe.

My fists bunched up in the covers.

Was I going to? Nope.

I had to be in top fighting shape. I always strove to be strong enough to defend myself and now, I knew that that could one day involve me facing off against Orochimaru again. Later down the line, it could mean being strong enough to fight a _god_. If there was even a chance to get out of this with as little damage as possible, then I was going to take it. Half-assing things wouldn't cut it.

"Do it."

Shizune knitted her eyebrows together. "Are you sure?"

I nodded, my jaw set. "Absolutely."

"Then let's start," Tsunade said. "I'll go make the preparations."

.

.

In truth, there wasn't a lot to prep. Shizune hefted Naruto over her shoulder and took him home, Tsunade ensured there was a room they could use that would facilitate the procedure, and they went ahead with everything.

Tsunade put me to sleep so that they could work without any chance of me moving and messing everything up, and when I woke up again, I was back in my room, Tsunade sitting in a chair at my bedside. That was the first thing I noticed. The second was that my body was no longer locked away from me.

Immediately, I tried to push myself up into a sitting position.

Tsunade rolled her eyes. "Go slow," she said. "Honestly."

But she didn't try to stop me. She watched as I painstakingly hauled myself up using the bars on the side of the bed. I didn't exactly feel great, but I could _move_.

"Everything went about as well as I could hope for," she told me. "One of the joints caused a bit of trouble, but I left it alone rather than push it so I'll have you follow up with me in a week to see how that's healing on its own. Other than that, no complications."

"Holy shit," I muttered.

Tsunade barked out a laugh.

I experimented a little. Rolled my shoulders, turned from one side to another, reached my arms all the way above my head. Everything seemed to be in order.

While I was still limited in my bed, I turned to Tsunade and gave her a more proper bow. "Thank you, Lady Tsunade. This is incredible."

"You're welcome," she said, leaning back in her chair. She was unreadable, from her face to her posture. "Though I think you ought to thank Naruto more than me. He's the one who got me here."

"I'll do that."

"Good." Tsunade drew herself up and brushed invisible bits of dust from her pants. "A medic will be by later to check you over. If everything is still well, you'll be discharged by this evening."

The door clicked shut behind her, leaving me behind in silence.

I clenched my fist and held it out in front of me.

I got out of trouble, this time. I would be able to fight again. But that was due to a lot of luck and a lot of other people having to carry me the rest of the way.

Preventing injuries entirely was impossible—it was going to happen again, especially with what this world had in store for me. So, what could I do? Prepare.

I had two years before the next major event was going to happen. Things were screwed up a bit, but I didn't see any of it interfering with the major threats building behind the scenes. Right now, time was on my side.

And I was going to make use of it.

* * *

A/N: Special thanks to **Sage Thrasher** for her beta work!

So, here I am. Not dead. Basically I just kind of got distracted by my other projects and this fic fell to the wayside. Partially because my other fics were statistically doing way better than this one, and partially because last chapter hit the end of my plans and I didn't know where this fic was going so I just kind of... did nothing. Yeah. So I had to spend a few months planning out the entire middle section of the fic and hammering out the details of it, which I have now done, so here is a chapter.

Also worth noting: I've decided that I'm going to just write a bunch of chapters and backlog before I start posting for this fic as I've learned that that's really the only way I'll have any consistency anymore. Right now I've got another chapter and a half done, waiting, and I'm hoping to get to about five chapters? Before I start posting one every couple of weeks? We'll see. But I can promise for sure this time that the next time I post a chapter for this fic, there will be at least a couple months worth of posts waiting. Mostly I just wanted to post this one so y'all would know it ain't dead. Cause like, this fic will never die.

Admittedly, outside the whole planning thing, I kind of got discouraged with this fic. The stats for this fic kind of nosedived after the Wave arc and it was a bit of a blow to my motivation for the fic because it felt like there wasn't anybody left who was interested. Especially considering I had other projects that were all far newer but were pulling far better stats and that kinda... distracted me. But I decided that I really wanna get this fic moving again, regardless of whether or not it does as well as I want it to. So... yeah. Gentle reminder to encourage your local fanfic writers because we're human and the only payment we get are reviews, so if you've got a minute, please drop a review!


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